Two Things Are Certain, Sequel Change of Hearts
by gammara
Summary: Part 15 AN ENDING! Find out how everything gets resolved. Does Archer pass the test? What happens next.
1. Default Chapter

**Two Things Are Certain **

**(Change of Hearts II) **

Life was almost settling down into what Archer had coined 'near-normal.' The crew was busy and seemed for the most part happy. Well, Trip Tucker may not exactly fit into that category, but that was to be expected. He and the captain were trying to pick up the pieces of a broken friendship with some difficulty, but for some reason the engineer and T'Pol managed to work together as if they had always been friends.

Maybe her foray with the man actually improved relations between the two. Before they became an item, they fought like cats and dogs. 'Funny,' thought Archer. 'Ending up in bed with someone usually makes things more difficult.'

His thoughts turned to the ship. It was running at unbelievable efficiency, including Lt. Reed's unyielding quest to press his team for better results. When they were in the Expanse, Archer had noticed the security team hunkered down and almost seemed depressed. Maybe it was because the MACOs were gone that they were able to comply with every order. Malcolm seemed to breathe easier and let his hair down … well … for Malcolm. It could've been watching so many of them die … perhaps it gave him renewed sense of purpose, as if he had to somehow make it up to them.

And other than his friendship with Trip, which was slowly recovering, the captain was thrilled: his love life was meaningful and rich, he was exploring the stars again, his dog was pleased with T'Pol … life, all in all, wasn't too shabby.

He entered his quarters and gave a small jump, startled that T'Pol was waiting there for him. Her long figure was sitting cross-legged on his bed reading a PADD, allowing Porthos to hang devotedly at her feet. As he took in the scene, he heaved a sigh. Heaven. And when the door slid shut, Jon leaned over and kissed her.

"This mean you can stay for a while?" he asked, seeing that she was dressed casually with her shoes off.

She looked up, quizzically.

He said, "Well, let's see. You've had the science teams working on your guess about how to improve the scanners …."

"The _hypothesis _has thus far proven correct. And, I do believe you are the one who re-instituted breakfast and dinner meetings with the crew."

He frowned. That gave him very little personal time with T'Pol, but reacquainted him with everyone else. Through T'Pol's mind, he could see what people thought about him in the Expanse – "airlock Archer." Ever since he'd been back, he'd been hoping to dispel that nickname. Well, for once, he was glad just to have some time with his … girlfriend. He sat down heavily and took his shoes off, leaning back against the pillows.

"Well, regardless, I'm glad you're here," he said, placing his hands behind his head. After taking in a few breaths, he watched her continued to read and shifted to rub the small of her back in even strokes while musing over the events of the day. In response, she put her PADD down and leaned back, placing her head next to his.

"We have seen little of each other for … more personal moments," she whispered. Brushing her nose against his, her lips wandered over to his mouth and enveloped it.

He deepened the kiss and then pulled back, whispering, "It's been a while."

With a sly smile, his finger caught a curl in her hair as his foot gently nudged Porthos off the bed. The dog snorted and hopped down as Jon rolled on top of her and pressed his mouth and teeth on her neck.

"It's been four days," she said.

"Actually, it's been five," he countered, taking her earlobe in his mouth. "I've been thinking about you …."

As if by pure instinct, T'Pol's flattened hand traveled down his chest and past his waist; his body leapt at a single touch. Moaning in her ear, he felt his hormones rev and zing through his body and demand immediate satisfaction. Without his usual finesse, he clumsily grabbed at her zipper and began to yank.

Suddenly the two began a flurry of movements -- twisting and turning, attacking each other with their mouths. T'Pol slipped her fingers to the side of his head and began to penetrate his mind.

She dove into a vast ocean that rumbled, spraying foam onto the shore. As she splashed into the water she noticed the waves were more tumultuous than normal; he was passionate and urgent. The undercurrent was strong and before long she realized she was being carried out … and quickly. She tried to tame his mind.

_'Think calming thoughts,' she encouraged. _

His mouth devoured hers as she felt a wave of desire pummel her.

_'Jonathan,' she called. 'Your impatience ….' _

Rushing onto the desert, he brought a strong, cool breeze with him. His feet kicked up sand as he ran down a dune, stumbling and tumbling down in anxiousness. Letting his frame cascade down the side, he picked himself up and continued to run at full speed.

She noticed his presence felt larger and more overwhelming than it usually did. Typically, she slipped into his mind with ease, but this time he came pounding into hers, breaking down barriers she believed could not be overtaken, particularly by a human. The man was completely out of control.

_'Relax,' she whispered through the recesses of his mind. _

Ignoring the soothing tone and hushed patterns, his fingertips tapped against her temple and his thoughts plundered hers with resounding force. As his emotions unleashed, she became disoriented and woozy. She barely felt his right hand splay open the back of her garment as his mind threw erotic images at her rapidly and chaotically.

She moaned hoarsely, "Aisha."

_Practically tearing at her clothing, he nearly screamed into her mind, "Surrender." _

As his tongue plunged into her mouth and he'd begun to peel her arm out of the catsuit, the comm squawked.

"Bridge to Captain Archer."

T'Pol barely heard the noise and noticed right away Jonathan had not retreated, instead his fingers had snaked against her skin and his hips slowly rocked against hers. Unable to get his attention, she pried her fingers away from his temple -- leaving him foggy-headed. One moment he was rolling down a sand dune restlessly seeking out T'Pol, the next he was in his quarters staring at her slightly exposed shoulder. He panted glancing around his room, trying to figure out where he was and why.

"Ensign Sato to Captain Archer."

Shaking the cobwebs out of his brain, he sprang off the bed and tripped attempting to reach the box. Working to his feet, he found the box at the end of the room.

"Archer here," he panted.

Ensign Sato said, "Sir, I have a communication from Admiral Forrest."

Trying to jolt himself to life, he ran his hand over his face. He must've waited too long to respond, because Hoshi's voice answered, "Uhm, want me to transfer him to your room?"

It was a miracle that there wasn't a visual connection between the two – his hair was tousled, his face was flushed, his lips were slightly swollen and he was having trouble steadying his breath. Taking a deep breath he smoothed his hand over his hair, coaxing his cowlicks down.

"Yeah, transfer it here," he agreed.

"You okay, sir?" she asked.

"Uhm, yeah," he answered back.

Slipping behind his desk, he watched Admiral Forrest appear on screen. Unlike his typical calls, the admiral was wearing a long face.

"Jon," began his commander.

This definitely wasn't good news. "Sir, I take it this isn't a friendly call?" Jon asked.

"No. Soval tried to contact T'Pol, but has been unable to for the past few hours. I needed to let you know something. It's bad news. Ambassador V'Lar died this morning."

Forrest paused as a frown worked itself onto Archer's face and then continued.

"I'm pretty sure it was natural causes, although no one's really said anything. Soval has made a personal request that you take Sub-commander T'Pol to Vulcan for the ceremony," he said.

Archer's heart sank. V'Lar was one of T'Pol's childhood heroes … and he was pretty fond of the woman, himself. He desperately wanted to look over his shoulder and comfort his girlfriend, but realized he'd have to deal with the rest of the conversation first. Forrest didn't know about their relationship … well, he knew a little something from their last visit to Earth, but didn't understand the relationship had only grown exponentially.

"Yes, sir," Jon said with regret.

"When you see the sub-commander, give her my condolences," Forrest said and then the screen went black.

Archer turned around and saw T'Pol had retreated into herself, leaning against the bed, staring at the covers. After climbing out of his chair and over to the bed, he put his hand on her leg. She was obviously hurting.

"Sweetheart, you okay?" he asked.

She stared into space and said absently, "_That _was unexpected."

Archer hung his head to his chest, rubbing her leg in sympathy. "How old was she?"

"I don't know," responded T'Pol. "One hundred and sixty, perhaps …."

Out of pure instinct, Archer cupped the back of her head and drew her into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" she asked with confusion, fighting the movement.

He let his hand flop down on the bed. "I know how much she meant to you."

"Death is inevitable."

_Strange hearing her sound so Vulcan. _"Of course it is, but it doesn't make it any easier when people we admire die. Does it?"

"No," she admitted.

Archer sighed. He petted her hair for a few moments, glided his fingers through her hair lovingly as her eyes remained glued to the bed.

Trying to figure out what she was thinking or feeling, he kept his gaze on her.

"You are continuing to stare at me," she commented.

"Well, when humans hear someone has died, they become … upset."

"I am not human, but I am … unsettled," she whispered. "She was a mentor. I admired the woman greatly. Her loss will not only be felt by me, but many other Vulcans. V'Lar was greatly respected for her dealings with the Andorians at the battle of T'Mar. The ambassador was one of the most knowledgeable cultural …."

He tuned out the rest of the ambassador's accomplishments. Jon liked the Vulcan, but was more concerned about T'Pol. Rather than focus on her words, he noticed all her nuances: her voice gave tiny tremors and there was something else … something he didn't quite expect – her eyes were glassy. In fact, he could see a tiny water droplet collecting in one of them, threatening to spill down her face.

Greatly moved, his thumb stroked her cheek.

"Sweetheart, it's okay to cry," he whispered. Maybe she needed permission or encouragement. Whatever it was, he didn't want her to bottle it up, and on some level he'd envisioned one day holding her to him as she let a few tears fall. As his throat tightened at her beauty and the unchecked emotion, the water droplet dried up and evaporated.

She raised her eyebrow, smashing out any trace of emotion.

_Vulcans do not cry. _

Allowing this emotion to bubble to the surface would be a disservice to V'Lar; it would dishonor her memory. But, being around humans for so long, she couldn't help but feel life was precious. V'Lar of course had a katra which would be collected and stored in the Great Hall -- the place where Vulcans could draw on her wisdom for decades to come. Death was inevitable … logical. And still … Jonathan was correct; she _was _upset.

Straightening her spine with resolve, she stuffed her arm back into her clothing and righted her zipper.

"No, Jonathan, it is not 'okay' to cry."

She climbed out of the bed and put her shoes on, determined to leave.

Jon, although the epitome of confusion, on some level recognized that Vulcans dealt with things differently … and T'Pol was _Vulcan_ despite being around humans for so long.

"You need some privacy?" he asked.

"Yes. I wish to meditate. Also, there is a ritual I must perform to keep V'Lar's memory in my thoughts." It was imperative she remove herself from humans; her mind needed to feel clean and free of impediments.

"If you need some bereavement time …."

"That is unnecessary," she claimed. She walked stiffly to the door.

"I'll be here if you need to talk about anything," he said, offering a warm smile.

"I understand," she responded. And with that, strode out the door and down the hall.

More than a little baffled at her behavior, he stared at the door. He couldn't really fault her; it was undoubtedly a shock: her childhood hero was dead. Maybe he'd check up on her in the morning and make sure she was okay.

Archer's lips curled down further as he sauntered over to the comm. "Archer to the Bridge."

"Parsons here," a young male voice said.

"Plot a course to Vulcan," Archer said. "Warp 4."

"Aye, sir."

"Thanks. Archer out."

Taking a few moments to reflect, he wondered why V'Lar had died at such a young age. It seemed … improbable. Forrest was right, though; it'd take an act of congress to get the Vulcans to release any details or explanations. Usually when people withheld information it was because they had something to hide. In the case of the Vulcans, they withheld everything equally and with the same determination, at least that was the captain's supposition.

Maybe to take his mind off things, he'd go see what Trip was up to. He knew the engineer had just gotten off duty and could use a little time trying to mend their friendship. With that firmly decided, he shuffled down the hall toward Trip's cabin.

**Chapter Two **

By the time T'Pol reached her room, she felt the ever-present human emotions floating around the ship weighing on her. Even as Jonathan had comforted her, she could feel miniscule waves of desire; buried deep within his mind she noted he was keyed up from their romantic interlude and she realized he wondered if Soval was hiding more important information. This troubled her. Yes, she felt overwhelming love, tenderness, compassion, understanding, sadness, concern and grief from him, but the fact she could feel the traces of these other things _bothered _her.

Perhaps it wasn't just this – it was all his emotions. Each of them were overwhelming, wanting and waiting to ease her suffering and protect her, aching to kiss her and longing in some strange way to see her emit some semblance of feeling. In her mind, it was disturbing that he wanted to encourage her to cry.

Slinking into her cabin, she left the lights off and immediately began illuminating her meditation candles. The flames flickered and she felt a few tears bring themselves unexplainably to her eyes. She blinked them away.

_'Illogical,' she thought. _

In T'Pol's mind, Surak was the father of logic, and as such should be revered above all others. But, V'Lar wasn't too far behind. The woman was more than a mentor; she'd led T'Pol to understand and accept humans for what they were. If she hadn't met her, undoubtedly she never would have consummated a relationship with any human, much less with Jonathan Archer.

She sat cross-legged on the floor and began to chant one of the first songs she learned on Vulcan when her mother's forefather died. The song was simple, but sweet – it was remembrance: _"Keep their thoughts and wisdom with us so that we may better ourselves." _

Her eyes slipped shut and her body followed the song into meditation. Crawling outside her body, she flung her mind into the stars and floated eventually to the temple at Shi'Kar on Vulcan. The large stone doors skidded open, as she forced her way inside the Great Hall to view the katras of diplomats, farmers, old warriors and teachers. A line of somber Vulcans wearing cloaks hanging around their shoulders like shrouds, gathered to pay respect and leave a single thought.

_'Which thought would she leave? Which memory?' she asked herself. _

As she stepped into the gray mausoleum, she felt the presence of hundreds of cold, calm minds murmuring – their voices echoing. The smell was musty and stale – like old weathered papyrus and rotting flesh. Vulcans swirled like shadows hovering near V'Lar's still body and their bony fingers reached out to touch her temple. It was the essence of death and these ghosts seemed to prey on V'Lar's mind: they were taking memories like they were feasting on her corpse and the thoughts they left behind stank. T'Pol gathered her cloak around her and shuddered involuntarily.

_'Blasphemy,' she thought. It reverberated in her mind, whispered by the line of Vulcans. 'Showing emotion inside this sanctuary.' _

And her journey came to an end; her mind was propelled back onto the ship, into her cramped quarters and onto the mat where she meditated. Frustration leaked out of every pore; it was impossible not to _feel_. Maybe it was the humans and their emotions slithering down the corridor, enveloping her. Maybe it was Jonathan, after all, she still had his smell on her, and her lips still stung from his from his caressed and scratchy chin.

No, undoubtedly she was to blame -- she had given herself the luxury of dabbling with and confessing to emotions. Perhaps when she was on Vulcan, she would participate in the Kolinahr – the purging ritual.

Wearily, she dragged herself up and blew out her meditation candles. In the darkness, she found her way to her bed, and crawled into it. With a slight frown, she closed her eyes and rested her body.

**Chapter Three **

Jon scuttled onto the bridge the next morning, trying to act like the captain, not the boyfriend. Glancing around everything seemed to be in its place, including T'Pol; she looked like the embodiment of self-restraint – not at all the vulnerable woman in his quarters last night.

T'Pol robotically called out, "We are one week away from Vulcan, Captain."

He noticed she sat ramrod straight and her face was completely devoid of … anything. The usual twinkle in her eye had been extinguished and her lips held perfectly still, rather than give a slight tremble at his presence. Archer sucked in a deep breath and acknowledged her statement with a slight nod.

"Thanks," he said. He looked around the bridge – everyone seemed to be hard at work. Good. After debating whether to sit in his command chair or talk with T'Pol he headed for the science station and asked, "May I speak with you in my ready room?"

He'd convinced himself he had a couple of things to discuss … work-related things of course. During that discussion, he might bring up how concerned he was that she didn't return any of his communiqués from this morning.

She glided behind him, following at his heels, strolled into his office and stared at him as he perched himself on the desk and leaned forward. Her mouth and eyebrow remained flat.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes."

Maybe he'd get the non-work-related things out of the way. "I was worried about you. You didn't contact me this morning. "

"Should I have?"

Confusion riddled his face.

"You seemed to be contacting me on a personal level, rather than in an official capacity. Did I misinterpret it?" she asked.

He folded his arms across his chest and sighed. "Well, no. I didn't contact you as the captain, but as your boyfriend. But, I guess even if I were … just the captain … I'd want to make sure you were okay."

"I see. So you are speaking to me now in an unofficial capacity," she said.

_What?_ "I guess."

"Very well. Then I will address you as such. I have become lax in my emotional restraint. Rather than contact you, I wanted to meditate all morning. In fact, I wish to meditate when I am not on duty until we reach the planet."

"Huh?"

"I wish _only _to meditate while not at my post," she said.

He glanced over her; something about her countenance reminded him of when she'd first reported for duty after being assigned to him. She was taut, formal and absolutely unreadable. This wasn't exactly the T'Pol he was used to, but she seemed to be stewing in logic over V'Lar's death. He decided he'd be supportive. After all, if he'd been around when Zephram Cochran died, he was sure he'd react in the same way. Well, maybe not the same way; he'd most likely brood about it.

"Okay," he said, puzzled.

"Good. I will require more seclusion than normal, although I would like to continue with my duties," she said.

The teachings of Surak raced through her mind as she spoke. She needed to remain focused, logical and determined; it was impossible to keep from breathing in Jonathan's scent and pressing her lips to his. _Logic. It is the beginning and the end. _

"All right. When's the funeral?"

"The day after we arrive on Vulcan. Although it is not a funeral as you understand it."

"Maybe you can debrief me on it before we arrive. All the same I should probably arrange for Trip to work extra duty and …."

"This tradition is a solemn occasion -- without the hysterics humans devote themselves to at someone's passing. It has never been seen by off-worlders."

"Hysterics?"

"Exactly so. You are not invited."

"I'm not?"

"No," she replied.

After pausing a few seconds, he asked, "How long are you going stay on Vulcan?"

"Approximately one week."

"Wait a second, it'll take us one week to get to there."

"Yes."

"Are you saying you don't want to see me for two weeks?"

"Essentially accurate. I also require time once I have returned from Vulcan. That amount of time has not yet been determined."

"So, you're putting our relationship on hold for two weeks … maybe longer?"

She didn't respond; she thought the question to be rhetorical, especially since she already outlined her need to be away for longer than two weeks.

"I mean, hell, I haven't seen you at all this week," he added.

"Not all week -- five days," she corrected.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he glared at her. "Whatever. When we agreed to this relationship … I thought …."

"Please do not overreact, I merely wish to be alone."

"Overreact?" Trying to calm himself down, he took a deep breath. "Look, I just don't understand why you're putting our relationship on hiatus for any length of time … it feels …."

"I have already explained it. I am trying to control my emotions. Because you, and all humans, _emote_, I need to limit my contact with you."

Archer scowled. "I know you need more space than usual, but …." _No, this wasn't going to work at all._

Interrupting him again, she asked, "Are you more concerned about our lack of physical or mental intimacy?" she questioned.

Flustered at the question, he decided to answer it truthfully, "Both. We just haven't had a lot of time together and …."

"What is it then you require from our relationship so that I may have my privacy?" she asked, mechanically. Perhaps she would have sex with him and he would ease up his emotional onslaught. She was trying her level best to remain as unemotional as possible. Her mind's voice repeated, _'Logic. Logic is the foundation of all Vulcan principles. Emotion is the chaotic vibration that crumbles reason.' _

"Require?! I don't _require _anything …. I'd think you'd want to be with me." He felt his fuse begin to shorten.

"As I have stated, that is currently not the case."

He guffawed.

Emotions were radiating off of him, invading her mind. "I merely requested understanding. May I or may I not have _two weeks _of privacy?" she asked. "It seems like a small thing to ask."

"You don't understand," he said, standing up. "I don't expect you to act like a human, but I don't expect you to treat me like a leper either!"

"You know my thoughts about you," she began. "What is the basis of your insecurity?"

"I'm _not_ insecure. You're just not acting like yourself. It's confusing to me; I'm not really sure how to respond," he said honestly. "I guess I was expecting more compassion from you, you know a little …."

"How can one treat you with compassion when they are devoid of emotion?" she asked.

"You treated me with compassion before yesterday evening," he said. He gave a sigh. "I don't know what's going on with you, but whatever it is … you don't have to be so nasty about it, I mean …."

"I have remained unemotional. You on the other hand," she began, letting her voice trail off. _Logic. Logic is the basis from which reason flows. It is like water, quenching the thirst of an active and peaceful mind. _

He widened his stance and puffed up his chest. "Stop interrupting me!" he yelled, flaring his nostrils.

She remained quiet, watching his face redden. As if embarrassed at his outburst, he hung his head to his chest. Watching his mind quiet, she decided to say something.

"If you have finished speaking to me in an unofficial capacity then I would like to …." T'Pol wanted to leave this discussion. No good could come of it.

He grabbed her arm. "I want to talk this thing out so it doesn't end up on the bridge."

His hand on her arm was eating at her self-control. She eyed him with a darkness that reminded him of when they'd been trapped on the Seleya together. He instinctively released her arm and recoiled.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he said, baffled.

"I am Vulcan, Jonathan. There is nothing … _wrong_ with me. I would simply like to sequester myself from all emotion. I don't know how many more times I have to explain that. I must be completely devoid of it when I come into contact with other Vulcans," she said, raising her voice just a notch. "And going through the ceremony to commemorate V'Lar's death requires more mental resolve … much more."

"T'Pol, I can understand your need to reconnect with other Vulcans. I just don't think that should come between us."

"It is not coming 'between us,' it is the foundation of who I am."

This was going nowhere fast. He leaned back onto his desk with defeat. "All right. Fine. Seclude yourself for how ever long you need to." He rubbed his hand over his face and thought it was going to be a long week.

"Thank you." She didn't want to touch him. Giving into that luxury would bring an onslaught of feelings she wished to bury. But, if she knew the man, he would need that comfort. Indeed after a few seconds, he held out two fingers. She stared at them wondering what to do.

Hesitantly, she whispered, "Embracing you would wither my emotional control."

He sighed and put his hands down to his side. This was going to be even tougher than he thought. He nodded and slipped behind his desk. He picked up a PADD and glanced over it.

"Are we finished speaking in an unofficial capacity?" asked T'Pol.

"Oh yeah," he said with irritation, staring at the PADD in front of him.

She studied him, wanting to stay and continue this conversation. But, she instead withdrew, climbing out of his office and dragging her feet back to her station. As she peered into the scanner, she thought about the trials and tribulations of being involved with a human. She was thankful to be away from the thoughts dripping from his mind. A piece of her would of course miss him. As soon as that thought came to the surface, T'Pol used her logic to beat it back down. To _miss _someone was an act of emotion.

The day resumed as normal. Archer walked out of his room about lunchtime and headed for the turbolift. She was used to tagging along with him during the mid-day meal, but neither wanted to spend time with the other. As he whizzed by her, she gathered he was still fuming about their last encounter.

With one step in the turbolift, he called out with particular coolness, "You have the Bridge, Sub-commander."

She looked at the door, sauntered over to the captain's chair and dipped into it wearing a mask of complete and utter non-emotion.

_'Vulcan is only a week away,' she thought. And her brain chanted, 'Logic. It is the beginning and the end ….' _


	2. Part 2

**Two Things Are Certain**

**Part Two**

**Chapter Four **

Things continued in a state of upheaval for the next week while they approached Vulcan. Neither Jon nor T'Pol had any contact with each other; their conversations on the Bridge were kept to a bare minimum.

Overall, she was silently reflective, but not unaware of his mood -- he seemed tense and she gathered was most likely brooding about the situation, but the minute she began to sympathize or empathize, she chanted a few words about logic, reason and control. The man could not be allowed to dominate her will. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't work things out with Jonathan. Undoubtedly it would lead to caresses and the sharing of thoughts, making her mind feel unkempt and unclean.

From his perspective all her interactions with him were cold, sharp and impersonal.

That pissed him off. He woke up, went to work and went to bed _angry_. Although he would've preferred to have a good old-fashioned argument, where everyone got a few things off their chest, the best thing was just to let her be …. though it was against his nature to let things fester like this. He decided to just acknowledge her as his first officer, and the rest would come back later, when she was ready … at least that's what he hoped.

In a way, he could understand the whole Trip business – how she fell in love (or whatever Vulcans do) with him and had trouble deciding between them. He knew she had deep feelings for the man, and in many ways still did. Heck, he had deep feelings for the man; the guy was almost a brother. But this? He couldn't comprehend it – not one iota. What would happen after she got back from Vulcan? Would she be so damned untouchable and unreachable? With a sigh he reminisced about the old T'Pol: the one who raised her eyebrow to tease or scold him, nibbled on his throat and attempted to get him to meditate with her from time-to-time. As far as he was concerned, _that _was T'Pol. He wasn't sure who this T'Pol was, but he was pretty sure he didn't like her. This one reminded him of Soval and how the NX program was held back for so long. This one would've prevented his father's engine from succeeding.

Furrowing his eyebrows together, he marched out of his room, down the hall, into the turbolift and onto the Bridge. At least this would all come to an end; they'd reach Vulcan in only a few hours. With a grunt he plopped down into the captain's chair, not bothering to look at his science officer. Hoshi smiled at his entrance, saw he was still grumpy, and slouched in her chair. She knew when to look busy.

Archer glanced at T'Pol and inquired, "Status?"

Unemotionally, the Vulcan answered, "All systems are normal, sir."

"Thanks," he said, flatly. He could feel himself glowering at the sub-commander.

Squinting his eyes, he stared at his PADD and drank his coffee. After a few moments, he excused himself to the Ready Room, leaving T'Pol in charge.

As Hoshi relished the peace on the Bridge, a communication crossed her console.

Thumbing her finger over a button, she said, "Transmission from Admiral Forrest, Captain."

"Put him through."

Thirty minutes later, Archer meandered out of his office with renewed vigor, thoroughly pleased with himself. With a smug grin, he slid into his chair and smiled at the view screen. Hoshi noticed the change in his demeanor right away, and for some reason felt nervous about his new attitude. The change also didn't escape T'Pol who'd decided that perhaps the caffeine he'd guzzled had finally improved his mood.

"We are nearing the planet. We should arrive in approximately two hours and forty five minutes," reported T'Pol. She didn't need to specify which one.

"It turns out I have to take care of a few things. Sub-commander, I assume you probably need to get packing?" he asked.

"I have already prepared, Captain," she responded.

He smirked. "What time do you leave?"

"Approximately 1500 hours, with your permission," she replied.

"Okay," he nodded. "Then the Bridge is yours."

Archer strutted over to the turbolift and grinned as the door slid shut.

**Chapter Five **

T'Pol piled her duffle bags into the shuttle at approximately 1459. As she was loading them, Archer appeared with a few items of his own, wearing a dress uniform as she had seen him wear on Earth when meeting Admiral Forrest.

Without peaking an eyebrow, she stared at him with confusion.

"You cannot go with me," she said.

He continued packing a few things, "That's funny. Maybe you don't want me there, but the Vulcans do. I've been asked to represent Earth at V'Lar's banquet tonight."

She asked, "They are holding a banquet in her honor?"

"You weren't invited, huh?" He nonchalantly added, "Well, I'd ask you to come with me, but you'd probably prefer to meditate and seclude yourself away from my emotions."

The man could be infuriatingly stubborn … if she could become infuriated that is. He radiated self-confidence, obviously fueled by the knowledge he'd one-upped her. As she finished stuffing her gear into the shuttle, she met him with a cool gaze and stepped inside the vehicle. He followed behind and sat at the helm.

Narrowing her eyes, she said, "I _do _know how to fly this shuttle."

He knew he was getting under her skin and was enjoying that she was unsettled – well, in a way. Being separated from her for a week (on top of not seeing her much before), and having it be her choice rather than his, brought out some of his old prejudices – the ones he thought he'd gotten over. In the recesses of his mind, he'd convinced himself that she enjoyed feeling superior … and was doing it to spite him.

When Forrest told him about the function, he'd looked forward to sharing the news with her – knowing she hadn't been invited. But, once it was delivered and he saw a flicker of disappointment spark in her eyes, her felt badly about it. He had two options – continue to be an arrogant bastard and fly them to Vulcan, or let her win this one.

With a smirk, he vacated the helm and scooted to the science station.

He said, "Yes, you do know how to fly the shuttle."

"Thank you," she remarked, taking her place at the front.

As the shuttle departed, Jon leaned his seat back and reached into a small sack to pull out a PADD that contained roughly 1,700 pages of materials on Vulcan customs he hadn't read. Not exactly light reading, he felt it necessary to at least try and represent Earth as best as he possibly could.

After a few moments of silence, T'Pol spoke up. "Where are you staying once you reach Vulcan?"

"I was hoping to stay in Shi'Kar. While I'm there, I thought I could see the temples you've mentioned. I know the banquet is near there anyway."

"I am not going to be able to take you to the temples," she said.

Trying to keep his temper in check, he said, "I know. I was going to take a tour by myself. I didn't ask you to come along."

She was silent for a few minutes as he went gladly back to reading the PADD. The woman thought about it – Jonathan didn't know much Vulcan.

In a small voice, she asked, "You remembered my description of the temples?"

"Yes," he said, his eyes focused down on the PADD. "Down to the cinnamon smelling red flowers in the courtyard by the fountains."

"I am staying in Shi'Kar as well," she noted. "Perhaps it would be mutually beneficial if we stayed in the same location."

Looking up at her, he realized she was making her first concession. Nodding slightly, he agreed, "Perhaps."

Giving a smile, he was about to say something when she averted his eyes again and focused on the controls. Maybe it wasn't her first concession, but her only one. With a sigh, he thumbed his PADD to scroll to the next screen.

Although it was impossible to feel "bugged" about something, the Vulcan's brain had been chewing on information since Archer arrived in the shuttle – the banquet.

"Who invited you to the banquet?" she asked.

"I guess Soval mentioned something to Forrest," he mumbled, beginning to get lost in the information on his PADD.

"The ceremony is usually reserved for dignitaries and close friends," she said, glancing back for a moment. "No doubt this is quite an honor."

"Huh?"

"Perhaps … I could escort you and show you some of the customs and expected traditions," she said.

Archer frowned, and lied, "I think I'm pretty well acquainted with what I need to do."

T'Pol had seen the way he prepared for events and gathered he didn't know the nuances that Vulcans would find critical to his success. Besides, she wanted to attend … and if she were honest with herself, she wanted to be with him. Maybe being with him in a public ceremony where his emotions would be diffused would be acceptable.

"I would like to accompany you."

Heaving a sigh, he scratched the back of his neck. Women, it didn't matter which species, were confusing. Looking into her eyes, he couldn't really say no to her and truth be told, he wanted her to come.

"I'd like that."

"Thank you." She paused for a few beats. "How long are you staying?"

"Dunno. I was kinda playing it by ear," he said, quietly -- dropping a hint that maybe he wouldn't mind tagging along with her. His pride wouldn't allow him to say it outright, especially after he'd claimed she wasn't welcome to accompany him.

"I _may _have time after the ceremony -- tomorrow afternoon, and then again toward the end of my stay."

"How many days?" he asked.

"Approximately, three."

"You won't be alone the entire time, as you had asked," he said.

"No. I will not be. But, you have shown me enormous hospitality on Earth. I believe I can do the same."

He didn't want to push her on that one; she obviously wasn't just returning a favor. Since she was good enough to let him save face, he could do the same.

"Good," he said. "Does this mean we're not fighting anymore?"

"We were never arguing," she noted.

"No. It seems we were disagreeing very, very quietly. We haven't really talked to each other in a week."

"Jonathan, we have been … dating … for roughly five months. It didn't seem a few weeks were too much to ask."

"I don't get to see you very much on the ship, at least not in the way I'd want to. I was hurt you didn't want to be with me. I was feeling … and am feeling … I don't know … I guess … human."

"I was feeling … and am feeling … Vulcan."

He nodded, accepting that some differences between them would probably cause issues.

"I honestly didn't think this would be a problem. You?" he asked.

"I believed our cultural differences would eventually become problematic. After all, it is only logical."

Jon grinned. "Well, just so you know, I didn't ask Forrest to send me here. Ambassador Soval requested it." He failed to mention he could always decline.

"I know."

"I would like you to have some time to yourself," he mentioned. "I'll keep myself busy until you're ready."

"I would appreciate that."

"And, I'll try not to bombard you with emotions or initiate physical contact," he conceded.

"That would also be helpful."

It was going to be a tough week. Even watching her now, he had to fight the urge to take her into his arms for a hug or press his fingers to hers. Instead, he dismissed the need for physical comfort.

"I love you," he whispered.

She turned her head toward him, wanting to kiss him. "I cherish you as well."

As if the argument were settled, she went back to piloting the shuttlepod. Although Archer felt better, something still bothered him – he just couldn't put his finger on what. With a sigh, he focused his attention back on his PADD.

**Chapter Six **

As they made their approach to Vulcan, Jon retrieved a hypospray and touched it to his neck. As it hissed, he felt his lungs begin to expand almost unnaturally and his head swim. Vulcan had almost twice the gravity, was at least 30 degrees hotter and the oxygen in the air was even lower than Earth's. Humans considered Vulcan hell – tales of the atmosphere and heat were legendary.

Validating these thoughts – T'Pol tilted the door open and Archer felt a rush of hot air that made him want to pass out. He was glad Dr. Phlox told him to bring twice the amount of clothing he would normally bring, as almost immediately, he started perspiring. With difficulty, he stood up and acknowledged he was in for a strenuous couple of days. His heart was pounding in his chest as if he'd started a light jog on a treadmill. He galumphed over to the door and struggled out. As he did so, he immediately searched for his shades; two suns and light colored sand made it almost impossible to see. Placing them over his eyes, he frowned – it was still blinding, especially to a man who'd been living on a ship where lighting was always kept to 80%. Archer grabbed at the second button of his uniform and fumbled to splay it open, hoping to coax just a little breeze onto his skin.

'Hell," thought Archer.

'Home,' thought T'Pol.

It'd been years since her return. She looked over the expansive brown, barren landscape with nostalgia. The temperature warmed her skin and her eyelids filmed over – her nictitating membranes springing to life, remembering how to shield her Vulcan eyes from the invasive sunshine. It felt dry and comforting, not humid like Enterprise's environmental controls. The smell of sand and heat reached her nose and she sucked in the scent; it was clean, not salty like Earth or the starship. And, then she listened – it was her favorite part of Vulcan: silence. No small talk, chatter, beeping or noisy minds throwing their emotions onto her … it was utterly and completely devoid of sound … except for Jonathan. She could hear his heart pounding in his chest and his mouth suck in enormous amounts of air.

"Welcome to Vulcan," said T'Pol. She zipped to the back and threw her bags over her shoulder easily.

Surveying the land, Jon noticed sand as far as the eye could see. He could see the outline of the city in the distance … looming. The sky was swirling red, just as T'Pol had described, with two orange globes shining oppressively overhead. If he had to liken it to any place he'd been, he'd guess West Texas. He couldn't understand why T'Pol thought it was so beautiful. It was flat, hot and the sky looked like clay. It wasn't nearly as beautiful as he'd imagined.

The airstrip they had landed on was small, but seemed extremely high-tech. In fact, it made the bases on Earth appear backward. A few red-colored, sleek metal shuttles littered the mostly lifeless grounds – lifeless, except for the two brown-cloaked Vulcans that strolled up to greet them. They were both almost as tall as Archer, with bronze skin, dark hair and dark eyes. In fact, Archer had a hard time telling them apart; Vulcans, for some reason, liked to wear their hair in a bowl style, and wore what seemed like near-frowns.

"T'Pol," said one of the Vulcans, forming his hand into the shape of a "V."

"Greetings," she acknowledged.

Archer thought Soval was stiff, but realized compared to these guys, he had a sunny personality and a lot of charm. His face grew serious as he said, "Hello."

One turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "Archer."

The captain gave a lopsided smile. The greeting didn't seem welcoming; it sounded more like recognition. Unsure what to do with his hands, he tapped them nervously on his bags. Despite Archer's curious eyes, no one introduced himself, choosing to swivel around instead, letting their long dark cloaks flow about their feet.

"We are both staying in Shi'Kar," T'Pol claimed to the one who had shorter hair.

"Of course," he said. He didn't beckon them forward, but walked with long strides to a shuttle on the other end of the strip. T'Pol and the one with slightly longer hair followed at his heels, but Archer had a tough time keeping up. His breath already felt labored.

The three waited at the shuttle as Archer lumbered toward it, trying not to pant, but already sweating profusely.

"Sorry," he said.

The Vulcan with shorter hair turned his nose up ever so slightly and stepped into the shuttle. If Jon could smell himself, and he could, he knew he must reek to them. Shrugging it off, Archer placed his bags into the back with a huff, noticing only T'Pol had offered to help him, and then climbed in. He wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm.

"It's hotter than hell," Jon mentioned to himself, sitting in a steel chair. No air conditioning blew and the seats were cramped. Vulcans were thin, and even though he was light, his frame was larger than the chair.

Rather than respond to the human's comment, the three Vulcans remained quiet. Each purposefully seated himself, with T'Pol in the back next to Archer. With a flip of a few switches, the shuttle lifted easily off the ground -- not at all like the typical Earth-ship lunges and lurches. And with one additional button flick, the aircraft glided effortlessly toward the city.

'Funny, even the engines in these things are quiet,' Archer thought.

Craning his neck to look out a window, he saw precious few shuttles in the air. Strange, he expected for an airstrip near the capital, it would be teeming with people and bustling with over-stimulated life. Focusing his attention to the inside, he forgot to take his PADD out of his bag – and instead had to listen patiently to the endless Vulcan silence.

Finally ten minutes into their flight, the Vulcan with the longer hair said, "T'Pol, I grieve with thee over the loss of V'Lar."

T'Pol bowed ceremoniously.

Uncomfortable in the steel chair, Archer fidgeted, attempting to get comfortable. The Vulcan with the shorter hair, piloting the shuttle, glanced over his shoulder with what Jon gathered was annoyance.

Another fifteen minutes had passed without a word, and the captain finally decided to speak up, "So, how close are we?"

"The journey is approximately 45 of your Earth minutes," he mentioned casually.

Archer sighed; that didn't really answer his question. Peeking out the window, he saw a wasteland of sand – nothing really exciting to look at. Out of habit, he drummed his fingers on the side of the window for only a moment when he caught T'Pol's furrowed eyebrows and slightly shaking head, encouraging him to stop. He breathed deeply and put his hands in his lap. Thinking the best thing to do was take a nap, he closed his eyes.

Five minutes until they arrived, a burst of conversation started, nearly startling Archer.

"T'Pol, I hope your family is well and is eased in their grief at the loss of an admirable, if not unorthodox, woman," said the shorthaired Vulcan.

T'Pol was stoic, but Archer had the vague impression she was annoyed.

The other one added, "All of Vulcan admired V'Lar of course. And, you have somewhat followed in her footsteps, have you not?"

"I hypothesize that I have," T'Pol said.

"Your work with the humans is commendable," said the longhaired one.

"My work is neither to be commended nor chastised," she responded. Archer felt like the latter was directed at the shorthaired one.

"The humans seem to have made an … impression on you," shot back the shorthaired one.

"Is not the principles of IDIC to understand the culture of others?" she questioned, logically.

"That is indeed something V'Lar would say," said the shorthaired one.

Unable to let his girlfriend suffer under either bowl-head's scrutiny, Jon opened his mouth.

"Ambassador V'Lar, even if unorthodox, was an excellent ambassador. She understood my people and embraced many of our customs, winning the esteem of Starfleet and Earth. And, I personally liked her quite a bit. In fact, she seems like one of the most accepting Vulcans I've ever met."

Rather than look relieved, T'Pol stared ahead. "We are staying at the V'Kan."

"Of course," replied the shorthair Vulcan.

Silence ensued for a few moments and then the shorthaired one spoke.

"We will reach your abode in two of your Earth minutes, T'Pol."

The sentiment seemed to sting her. She straightened her spine and mentioned, "I am Vulcan. I may have alliances with Earth, and respect humans, but … I am as Vulcan as you."

"Of course," said the shorthair. "Slip of the tongue."

Jon sat back and thought for all this non-emotion, he'd witnessed one ripe with venom. T'Pol had more inflection in her voice, and seemed more on edge than the other two, but more Vulcan than she'd been in years. He was beginning to understand why she'd wanted to seclude herself. Undoubtedly to Vulcans she seemed emotional.

As they neared another shuttle strip, Archer took in Shi'Kar. All of the buildings looked the same – tall sand-colored buildings that peaked into spires; apparently Vulcans didn't believe in building beautiful structures in the sense Earthlings aspired for beauty and variety. But, there was a certain elegance and grace about the buildings – they were tall and wide, looking like something he might find in Asia or Egypt without the statues or ornate flourishes. Somewhere in between pagodas and mosques, every building looked the same.

When the shuttle landed, Archer stepped out. From their vantage point, they could see the river that flowed near Shi'Kar. But, this river was possibly one of the smallest he'd seen. Nothing compared to the Potomac, Missouri, Mississippi, Colorado or Columbia. It looked tiny and winding. In front of them was a sand-colored building, that Archer guessed was something akin to a hotel. He circled around the back to get his luggage, tucking his head against his arm and wiping off sweat.

As they made their way to the back, T'Pol noticed Archer, again, was having trouble. Giant circles of water had formed on his back and chest, and a smaller ring on his lower back. She wished the temperature would be slightly cooler, but they had entered at the heat of the day.

The human trudged to the back of the shuttle and began saddling himself with his bags. As he heaved one over his shoulder, he realized he wasn't just perspiring -- he was pouring sweat. His forearm dapped against his forehead to catch a spray of it from cascading down his face.

T'Pol joined him and effortlessly added two of his bags to her load. She offered, "Before we landed, I looked at the outside temperature. It's 50 degrees Celsius."

The longhaired Vulcan gave the symbol of a V to T'Pol and said, "Archer." The other one merely glided back into the shuttle and they left.

"Friendly," Archer said, sarcastically, heading toward the inn.

"Sten and Svar do not approve of my relationship with you," she whispered.

The captain stopped in his tracks and raised his eyebrows. "You told them?"

"No," she replied.

"I don't understand."

"To a Vulcan, it is obvious, I imagine. I will attempt to restrain myself further," she said. "I would not have minded that they found out, but Sten is an aid to the High Council and has … position. Svar is a cousin of mine; he was more accepting, but still did not approve."

"Sten is the short-haired one?" he asked.

"Yes," she agreed.

Archer shook his head. "Good thing I didn't lean over to kiss you."

Rather than raise her eyebrow, she said quietly, "Yes."

As they made their way into the hotel, they saw an older male Vulcan sitting behind a stone table – his hair gray and skin wrinkled with age. Archer guessed the man must've been over 150, maybe even older.

T'Pol greeted the person behind the counter with the Vulcan salute and began speaking in Vulcan.

Archer'd been studying up ever since T'Pol had come on board, but he only knew enough to know the innkeeper was concerned about the smell of the off-worlder and wondered whether he would be noisy and disturb the other guests. Jon guessed that meant him. She assured the old man that the captain was a dignitary and would only bring prestige to the establishment.

Begrudgingly, the innkeeper provided information on the rooms and muttered something very low to her. Archer waited for clarification, but found only a raised eyebrow from T'Pol. As they made their way inside and down the hall, she mentioned, "He was afraid you were interested in me by the way you were leering."

Jon chuckled. He glanced at her for a few seconds – nothing more, but acknowledged he'd have to watch his facial expressions more than ever. For people who didn't have emotion, he guessed that a slight twitch of the lips could mean a smile and a furrow of the brows could mean a frown.

Walking down one hallway to another, he thought that the inn was just as stifling as outside. Lucky for him, Vulcans didn't believe in air conditioning.

"Great," he mumbled to himself wondering if he'd be a walking fountain for his entire stay.

T'Pol dropped Archer's bags and strolled into her room next door without a key. Archer, lugged his bags in, stumbling inside. His room was not exactly the luxury suite – it was smaller than his cabin on Enterprise with a cot, a stone table, a meditation corner and a bathroom. A shower stall was strangely located near the back of the wall, about six steps away from his bed and separate from the bathroom. There was nothing for entertainment, except apparently meditation. Overall the accommodations seemed meager.

He sat down on the lumpy bed and frowned. Maybe he could think of this as a camping trip … without stars, cool air and a fire. Glancing around the room, he didn't spy a clock and his watch was still set for Earth; he had no idea what time it was, but knew the banquet was soon. Feeling his clothes stick to his body, he decided he had enough time to take a shower and change into a fresh uniform. Beginning to disrobe, he walked over and locked the door.

T'Pol stepped into her room, pleased with the hotel. The bed was made with a fiber called lyth'apa and was considered opulent by Vulcan traveling standards. She sat down on it and immediately noticed the relaxing scent. Spreading her form onto the bed, she marveled at the serenity of the room. The innkeeper had indicated there was a fountain in the center of the entire complex – very rare. She knew these accommodations were luxurious by Vulcan standards and hoped Jonathan would enjoy them. Noting the time according to her watch which she pre-set to the time on Shi'Kar, she decided it best to get ready quickly.

Within a few minutes, she strolled out of her room and knocked on the Jonathan's door. Hearing no answer, she rapped on it again. Her knuckles beat on the door once more as she thought if he delayed much longer, they were going to be late. To Vulcans being either late or early was seen as inconsiderate. She knocked a few more times and tried the door -- locked. Deciding they had no time to dally, she got the innkeeper to assist her.

Jon was in heaven. This was one thing that felt good – a shower. He felt a little exposed, the stall didn't have a shower curtain or door, but he rejoiced in the cold water completely covering his body and smiled as water collected around his feet and funneled to a pipe that he guessed provided water outside to some garden.

"Very efficient," he said.

He cracked open a bottle of what he guessed served the purpose of soap and shampoo. The smell was definitely foreign, giving off an odor that reminded him of a candle in T'Pol's room. Making like the locals, he squished some into his hand and scrubbed up.

After lathering his hair and humming quietly to himself, he heard a slight cough and turned around with a start. Archer stared in stunned silence, unable to make a peep, as the innkeeper raised an eyebrow.

"What the …?" asked Archer, angrily, defensively placing his hands strategically in front of him.

The innkeeper said something in Vulcan as T'Pol whispered a few things in return. With a slight brow twitch, the old man left.

T'Pol stated, "We do not have time for you to shower. We are running late."

"Could you shut the door?" he asked, pointing to the one that led to the hall.

T'Pol wondered about human modesty sometimes as she crossed the room and closed the door.

"Thank you," he grumbled, splashing off any remaining suds. "Now, what the hell was that all about? Why didn't you knock?"

"I did. You didn't answer. I was concerned something had happened to you and we would be unable to meet our scheduled departure," she said.

Archer shut off the water and looked around for a towel, but didn't see one.

"We are running behind," she reminded him.

"Well, _I_ was the one who was invited," he mentioned, scanning the room.

"So you were," replied T'Pol.

"Is there a towel around here?" he asked.

She stepped into the bathroom for a moment and retrieved what to Archer looked like a washcloth.

"Towels are largely unnecessary. The heat usually evaporates moisture quickly."

"I'll take it," he said.

Wiping it quickly over his body, he had to agree: nearly all the water had dried already. Impressed he ruffled his hair with the cloth and jumped into his clothes as T'Pol gave a Vulcan glare, shoving the garments into his hand to speed him up.

As they walked down the hallway, T'Pol casually mentioned, "The innkeeper believes humans are bashful because they are … well-endowed."

Archer snorted and buttoned the last button of his fresh dress uniform, glad that Starfleet issued three to all officers. As he stepped outdoors and followed hurriedly at T'Pol's feet, he thought to himself, "That was with the cold water running. Hmmm."

**Chapter Seven **

T'Pol shuttled them to the banquet, deliberately speeding (which is apparently unheard of to Vulcans), as Jon shifted in the steel chair.

"I'm sorry. I thought we had more time."

"To Vulcans, it is considered rude to be late, Jonathan," she scolded without emotion. "I thought you were prepared."

"I forgot to set my watch to Vulcan time."

He sighed. The entire evening was going to be a disaster. T'Pol had hovered around him, almost nagging as he quickly jumped into his clothing. He didn't have time to shave or dry his hair, and his face was riddled with stubble and his hair revolted at the Vulcan soap, causing his cowlick to stand nearly on-end. His hand worried the strands, and he finally licked his palm to coax it down, without any luck. The Vulcan gave a disapproving glance, but refused to comment.

Juxtaposition, T'Pol looked beautiful, even radiant. Her purple shimmering robes lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle. She was perfectly coiffed, smelled nice and seemed utterly collected.

When they neared the banquet hall – a large stone building mirroring the temple of P'Jem – T'Pol began to re-emphasize all the faux pas he could possibly make, encouraging him not to do any of them.

"It is imperative that you refrain from speaking too loudly."

"Right, no shouting."

"Aim for something barely above a whisper. And if you can contain yourself, do not laugh. Laughing may disturb them."

"I doubt it'll be a hilarious gala – they are Vulcans after all."

As they exited the shuttle, Archer felt the overwhelming heat of the desert again. But, he noticed it had dropped in temperature a bit, cooling down to only mildly oppressive. He wasn't sweating as profusely, but noticed he was having a little trouble breathing. He shook it off; undoubtedly he was tired – after all, Vulcan had much higher gravity than Enterprise or Earth.

As T'Pol pushed the doors open, they noticed Vulcans were seated ceremoniously at tables scattered around the room and Soval at the front, speaking. Archer realized right away they were the last to arrive. His watch, which he corrected to Shi'Kar-time, noted they were only ten minutes late; Vulcans waited for no man, certainly not an Earth one.

Vulcans in dark robes and stoic faces were gathered around plain stone tables. Not only did the faces around the room look bland, so did the room itself – no tablecloths, fancy party favors, balloons or anything that might indicate a feast, a party or celebration. Nothing. Well, what had Archer expected?

He lumbered toward two empty chairs. Apparently T'Pol had the foresight to notify them he was "bringing a date," although, he doubted that was the word she'd used. Colleague probably was the one used to describe their relationship.

As he slid apologetically into a stone chair, Soval briefly stopped his speech to watch Archer uncomfortably sit and smile.

"And for this, V'Lar will remain in the annals of Vulcan history as a leader, a mentor and … an innovator," he said, finishing his speech in Vulcan, and then in English.

Archer lifted his hands to applaud, and seeing no one clap, let them fall helplessly into his lap. T'Pol raised her eyebrow, chastising him for not reviewing their customs more thoroughly. She had not thought to cover that in the shuttle and hoped he wouldn't make any further mistakes.

Soval looked over the audience and mentioned in English, "I have asked that a being from another species, a human, join us on this occasion. The ambassador was quite … intrigued … with him." He pointed his gaze toward Archer again, who wondered briefly if he should stand up and say something. T'Pol shook her head, obviously reading his mind.

The other Vulcans seemed relieved to know _this_ was why a human had joined them.

Archer knitted his brows and smiled weakly, acknowledging the introduction.

Soval then began to speak in purely Vulcan. Although the aliens didn't smile, Archer got the distinct feeling Soval was telling jokes. Watching their eyes drift toward him, he was sure he was the butt of the jest. And he didn't like that.

Sensing Archer becoming wary and confused, T'Pol turned to him and explained, "The ambassador was merely indicating that it would not be a celebration for V'Lar without participation from another culture. And, that she was taken with humans and their customs. He then relayed she … shook hands with humans."

He gave a small smile, still feeling like he was under a microscope.

Soval said a few more words as the Vulcans nodded thoughtfully, and then everyone stood. Archer got to his feet a beat after everyone else.

T'Pol leaned over, whispering, "He indicated that you would radiate feelings. And that to honor those, would be to honor V'Lar. We are free to eat and mingle."

Archer nodded. Well, at least having feelings wouldn't be a problem; it was beginning to feel like everything else he did was. He jaunted up to the tables and noted all the bizarre looking vegetables. A rumbling stomach warned him his body had been strained as if he'd been jogging all day. Not giving it any proteins made his gut unhappy.

He whispered to T'Pol, "Do they have any lentils or beans … anything with protein?"

She shook her head no. "Not at this gathering."

He sighed. Oh well. She'd turned over decisions about food to him while on Earth, he could at least give her the same courtesy. Accompanying her, he asked her to point out things she knew he'd like. T'Pol reminded him that Vulcans ate very little as he piled his food apparently too high. They wandered back to a table and Archer watched her eat and copied her motions.

From the looks around the room, T'Pol wondered if others assumed the two were in a relationship. Although she didn't care what they thought, it bothered her (very unVulcanly) that their eyes were on her. From a distance, they analyzed the captain and she even heard a few of the comments – smelly, taller than they supposed and unshaven.

Interesting that at a banquet for V'Lar, one of the most tolerant and rebellious Vulcans she'd ever met, there would there be so many judging, overly-proud Vulcans. As she nibbled on her food like a rabbit, she relished in the silence of a meal. It was something she'd missed. Eyeing the room, she also noticed a few colleagues she hadn't seen in years and was pleased she would be able to converse about the science directorate's newest white paper on why, of all the known races, Vulcans had the largest brains in both size and weight.

Archer stared at his plate, not looking up, as the rest of the Vulcans did. It was rude to speak until all plates were completely depleted of nourishment. At least he'd read that one in the more than 2,000 pages of Vulcan customs and traditions while visiting attending banquets. Even the banquets themselves varied – for the announcement of bonding (whatever that was), people were allowed to chat while eating. And during a banquet at someone's accomplishment, eating and standing was encouraged, especially since the meal was so long and included various stages.

As he forced half a plate heaped with vegetables into his mouth, he looked at the rest with contempt. It was also rude to not eat everything on his plate, although he questioned whether they'd accuse him of being a glutton instead.

After the last bite was eaten, everyone stood up and began to quietly converse. Archer left his seat and grabbed at his collar. The room was warm, undoubtedly due to all the lit torches and … he secretly wondered about all the "hot air" in the room. Deciding it was too sweltering, he unbuttoned his collar and showed a small patch of chest hair in order to get a little breeze. Guessing showing any body hair was undoubtedly rude, he felt his comfort in this one instance outweighed social graces.

The night air touched his skin as he noticed he wasn't perspiring again. Maybe that was for the best – gushing sweat was certainly impolite as well.

T'Pol saw him struggle. "Are you all right?" she asked, quietly.

"Yeah. It's just hot."

She noticed Archer's face was getting redder, but he wasn't leaking water from his pores as he did earlier in the day. The thought was swept away and, in the meantime, an associate from the Science Directorate sauntered up to her.

"T'Pol," he said, then began to speak in Vulcan.

Archer hung on the balls of his feet, waiting to be introduced. Instead, their conversation continued and he decided he didn't care. Rather than stay at her side, he wandered around the room, eavesdropping as much as possible with the limited Vulcan he knew, until he realized all the conversations were dull, not at all like V'Lar's stories. Everyone talked about work or Vulcan politics (which he didn't know anything about), and no one seemed particularly interested in him or even spoke his language.

Eventually making it over to a table, he sat down and stared at the stone structure. He wished he'd brought a book or something to occupy the time. More than anything, he wished his head would stop throbbing.

Seeing the human alone, Soval strolled over to his direction and leaned over.

"Archer," he said.

The human looked up as Soval said, "You might enjoy the air on the veranda."

As they stepped onto the patio, Archer felt the temperature drop. The suns were beginning to set – one crept lower than the other. The smaller one lingered reluctantly in the heavens as vibrant reds spilled across the sky, drenching the clouds in wine. It was absolutely breathtaking. He thought instantly of T'Pol, wishing he could've seen his first Vulcan sunset with her and looked over his shoulder at her. Through the archway, he saw a glimmer in her eye as if she was enjoying talking with old colleagues and possibly friends. At least one of them was having fun.

Soval confessed, "I have grown accustomed to the climate on Earth. I find Vulcan too warm." He stared at Archer's beet red face.

Archer smiled. Was the ambassador trying to make him feel at ease? That was a new one.

The Vulcan sauntered over to a bistro-style table, picked up a bottle and offered him an alcoholic drink, collected from cactus on the planet. Jon hesitated, but decided to be polite. Soval was making an attempt, so could he.

"I have noticed you were late this evening," Soval mentioned.

Archer frowned, "I wanted to take a shower. I felt a little ripe and I know Vulcans have a sensitive sense of smell."

"Perhaps that was best," the Vulcan said. "Are you staying long?"

"I don't know. I'm trying to be flexible."

"Accommodating T'Pol's schedule, perhaps?"

Jon smiled. "Perhaps."

Soval nodded and threw back the liquid in his hand. Archer watched him and did the same. It burned his throat and made his head swim a little bit more, but was sweet tasting.

"That might be difficult. I hear T'Pol wants to participate in the Kolinahr," Soval said. "The ritual to purge emotions."

Archer was bewildered; he'd heard of the Kolinahr only in passing from one of the Vulcans that worked with his father. After the somewhat likable Vulcan came back from the ritual, he was colder and more unpleasant.

"She didn't tell me that," Archer said.

"I see." The Vulcan paused. "I take it your relationship has continued then?"

He whispered, "That's none of your business."

"I must admit, I did not think it would last this long. I thought perhaps she was infatuated with humans. I can somewhat understand that," he concluded. "You have some … acceptable qualities."

Archer furrowed his brow.

But, before he could say anything, Soval diverted the conversation. "I take it you have heard of Kolinahr?"

Archer nodded.

"Some people take years to fulfill this ritual and are completely changed," Soval said, retrieving another drink for himself and Archer.

Archer's head was already swimming, but he decided not to refuse the ambassador's hospitality.

"Why are you telling me this? You don't think she should?"

"I think doing so in a week or less is … aggressive. T'Pol is not a typical Vulcan; she's always been more emotional. In fact, it's why I recruited her for the position on Earth."

Rubbing his temples to ease his headache, Archer had to admit, it was part of why he liked and admired her so much.

Soval continued, "Undoubtedly she will be unable to complete the process in so short a time, and it is not recommended to leave before the process is complete."

"Do you want her to stay here on Vulcan?" Archer asked, his heart beginning to pump wildly in his chest. Shaking it off, he decided it was the drink and remained calm.

"Not necessarily. I am suggesting it would be unwise for her to begin Kolinahr, and travel back to Enterprise. She should choose one or the other – purge herself of emotions and remain here, or postpone or forgo the ritual and travel back with you."

"She said she wanted to be less emotional," Archer offered. "I want her to do what she wants …."

"I am certain almost every Vulcan at this party can feel her emotions."

Jon's hand dipped against his forehead as he fought a sickening feeling coming over him. Soval's eyes fell onto him with concern as Archer produced a forced smile, urging it away.

"It's been tough to reach her lately. I think she knows she feels emotional. I want to help, but she won't really let me."

"I can see you care about her," Soval offered.

Jon casually steadied himself against the railing. "I love her very much."

Soval raised his eyebrow at the captain's candor. Although the human was passionate about things, it was unlike him to give up so much information or talk to Soval as a trusted friend.

"I'm not certain what the right path is for T'Pol, but she seems permanently fixed between logic and emotion. Perhaps being with humans, like you, is what's best for her."

"I jus wan her to be happy," Archer mumbled.

The Vulcan narrowed his eyes, wondering if the human was drunk. "Are you all right?"

Trying to breathe, he gulped for air and forced out a sentence. "Yeah. Jus gimme a minute."

With his heart thundering, his lungs constricting and his head pounding, Archer realized he was seriously ill, but didn't want to worry anyone. He'd read it was rude to leave a party early – everyone left at the same time … when it was over. By his watch, they still had another hour to go. He was almost home free. Desperately wanting to hang in there and prevent embarrassing T'Pol, he tried to snap himself back to life.

"Archer?" Soval asked, watching the man break into a cold sweat.

Suddenly, like a felled tree, Archer met the ground.


	3. Part 3

**Two Things Are Certain, Part Three**

**Chapter Eight **

When Archer woke up, he was back at the inn. As he tried to shake the confusion from his head, he acknowledged the throbbing languishing there. It was like a hangover, but smacked of weariness and disorientation.

He glanced around trying to determine where he was – it was like his room, but different. The meditation corner displayed lavender colored candles, rather than crimson ones, and he saw a few of T'Pols personal items scattered around the living space. He didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce this was T'Pol's room.

Now that he knew his location, he tried to figure out what had happened. Blinking his eyes slowly he recalled his last memory: he had a conversation with Soval about T'Pol when suddenly everything went black.

Hearing rustling in the other room, he leaned up to see what the noise was: T'Pol was walking out of the bathroom with a washcloth.

"How'd I get here?" Archer asked, groggily.

Securing the washcloth on his head, she narrowed her eyes. "Phlox indicated you should take the hypospray every four hours to combat the affects of the heat, lack of oxygen and gravity," she said. "You did not."

She was right. In all the commotion to leave, he'd forgotten to give himself the injection. Although T'Pol was always fairly unemotional, at least to humans, Jonathan noticed she looked concerned and maybe even a smidge angry. She was obviously worried about how he felt and was determined to take care of him, but something in her eyes looked … upset – very possibly at the ruckus he had certainly caused at the banquet ... the one where he couldn't do anything right.

"I hope I didn't embarrass you," he said.

"I am Vulcan. I cannot be embarrassed. Although the incident was … unfortunate."

Yeah, she was upset.

The problem was -- he couldn't win. Coming to Vulcan was possibly the dumbest thing he'd done in a long time; he could've declined if he'd really wanted to. His pride fueled 30% of the decision to attend – the prestige of Starfleet and Earth relations fueled 50% and roughly 20% was dedicated to wanting to be with T'Pol. It was unlike him to make emotional decisions or ones that would help his personal life, but after weighing everything, he'd decided to agree. It just so-happened it would help his personal life … at least, that's what he'd concluded in the end.

"I'm sorry I put you out. Soval wasn't upset, was he?"

"He is a Vulcan. Vulcans do not become upset."

Archer sighed.

He thought about T'Pol's visit to Earth and knew he'd put up with a lot. Sure, she was able to fit in a little more – after all, she was already used to human customs. Although he knew some things about Vulcans, overall, he didn't know much, especially in regard to social activities.

"I'm sorry," he said, hoping to smooth things over.

"Jonathan, I don't think you understand the gravity of the issue -- you could've easily died. Fortunately for you, your lungs were unable to capture air causing you to pass out before something more serious happened – like a heart attack, blood clot or other permanent and serious damage."

He gave a weak nod and fainter smile, trying to charm his way out of trouble. "Well, you can't blame me for forgetting."

Apparently, that wasn't true. "I suggest you always carry additional vials and a hypospray at all times. That would help you not to … _forget._"

That sounded a little condescending.

"Not to mention the fact that you drank," she said.

"I didn't want to be rude," he said. "When Soval gave me the drink, I wanted to appear gracious."

"I see," she replied. "Perhaps your health is worth being impolite. And declining a drink is much less rude than being carried out in a stretcher, causing the banquet to end early and forcing our relationship into the forefront."

His mouth opened slightly to defend himself as she continued.

"You were moaning my name as we placed you in the shuttle. Although I'm sure they were suspicious, the words you uttered in your delirium confirmed our relationship."

"Oh … look … I'm really sorry."

It was impossible to tell him, she was nearly an outcast from her planet – choosing to travel with Earthlings over Vulcans was tantamount to ripping up the sacred texts of Surak or laughing during the Kolinahr: it was never done.

The stares she'd received just showing up with Jonathan indicated that she was an outsider, but she could hear their whispers and logical treatises while the captain was loaded into a shuttle as he lay semi-conscious, whispering her name. The words that had left their Vulcan lips were neither flattering, nor deserved: abomination. _That_ was the word they had used for her – deciding that any Vulcan who showed emotion and would have relations with a human out of pon farr was something dirty and unclean. She was an affront to their logic and perhaps Surak himself.

Few Vulcans jumped to her defense, and even those that did found something wrong with Jonathan or her. Soval, her mentor, had only slightly rebuked his peers as he mentioned T'Pol could be forgiven for her infatuation with a human and their emotions … especially since she had spent so much time with them. Her mentor dismissed their relationship as a "phase" she was going through.

It had been easy to leave the party, but difficult to have listened to their slanders. As if to prove she was more Vulcan than they, she had ignored their words and with grace and humility, accompanied her companion to his destination, even though Soval had suggested that for the sake of her reputation, she should travel separately.

T'Pol eyed Jonathan now. His eyes were sorry, but he seemed unwilling to accept the responsibility of how he got into this situation. To challenge him, she continued.

"In addition, you did not read, as thoroughly as I'd hoped, the customs and traditions of Vulcan banquets."

He furrowed his brow. "The Vulcan database had more than 2,000 pages on Vulcan banquets _alone_." Waiting for a rebuttal for only a second, he said, "Besides, you managed to dump me to talk with your other colleagues. I can't help that I made mistakes, forgot a couple of things, drank a little …. Humans do that. We're not perfect … apparently not like the _Vulcans_."

"Jonathan, this has nothing to do with being human. You were ill prepared to come here."

"I didn't have a lot of time to prepare. I didn't think I was coming. Remember until today, I wasn't invited!"

"You're raising your voice. The other patrons of this establishment …."

"Well, you seem already embarrassed of me and our relationship. It doesn't really matter if I yell a little! Remember, I'm an illogical, inferior human."

Genuinely becoming concerned for his welfare, she said, "Please calm down. You are still unwell." His face reddened and his lungs panted at his anger.

"No, I won't calm down! I never should've come."

She seemed taken a back, studying him in silence.

"I'm not going to just sit here and be insulted by you and others." He began to get up, despite feeling ill.

"Jonathan …," she warned.

"Leave me alone," he said.

"But, you are unwell," she countered. "Perhaps we can discuss this rationally …."

"I've tried to discuss this rationally with you. We talked about it on Enterprise, we talked about it in the shuttle before we got here and now. You just don't get it!"

He was impossible when he was like this – and it caused her temper to flare. Every time they discussed it, he would become emotional and begin to raise his voice. Taking a cleansing breath, she tried to reason with him again.

"Your prejudice against my people is getting the better of you. Perhaps if you have time to reflect …."

"I'm intolerant?! That's a laugh. I've been scoffed at ever since I've gotten here by pretty much everyone on this planet – and that includes _you_._" _

Something about that remark stung; she thought it was unfair. "Jonathan …."

"Leave me alone!" he ground out. He clumsily walked out of her room and stumbled into his own with her directly at his heels. He collapsed onto the bed and huffed in irritation, drawing his forearm across his head.

Typically, she would back off and do the Vulcanly thing: wait. But, something about his persistence, his refusal to take responsibility for his actions and his accusations made her … mad.

"No, I will not leave you alone," she countered, already having barged in.

Agitated, he fumed, "Well, don't worry. I'll be out of your hair soon enough."

"I never asked you to come. I knew this would be difficult for you …."

Sarcastically, he shot back, "Gee, you certainly haven't helped. Maybe I should've let you embarrass yourself on Earth."

"I'm more acquainted with human customs. I had taken the time to study them and learn about them before accompanying you. _I _was not as foolish as you have been."

Archer's face tomatoed. "All right. Fine! You want to have it out? Here it is! I'm not going to let you insult me. And, I don't give a shit about the idiotic purging of your damned emotions …."

She snorted slightly, "This ritual is important to me."

"Yeah, this trip … actually the past week has been all about _you_," he said. "You haven't given any consideration to me or us."

"You are being unreasonable," she said. Her voice was raised louder than he'd ever heard it. "My visit to this planet is to honor a former colleague, or have you forgotten about V'Lar's death?"

"I think _you're _the one who's pretty damned unreasonable!" he yelled. "I want to support you in honoring her, but it seems this whole thing is more about you than her."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"It's been about _you_ trying to get back in touch with Vulcan ideals. This has nothing to do with V'Lar. You just can't see that."

"Typical of you to bring up the word Vulcan as if it were a badge of shame. It has been years since I've seen my own people – years since I've reconnected with them. And you're determined to ruin it."

"Ruin it?!" His eyes narrowed. "You just won't accept you're not like them any more, T'Pol. But, you're too damned stubborn to see that."

"_You _are the stubborn one."

"Fine! I'll just …."

She argued, "Just what? What are you prepared to do about it?"

"Go home," he growled.

"You already stated that. I think that's an excellent idea," she concluded. "I'll prepare transportation for you tomorrow. Anything else?"

"Well, fine! If I leave here, I don't think you need to worry about me anymore," he added.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean I've had it! If I'm not good enough for you, then you should go find somebody else," he said, seething. "Maybe a Vulcan to share in your non-emotions."

"What?" she asked a little softer.

"I mean, I think we should just go back to a professional relationship … only a professional relationship."

The two locked eyes, letting the comment drift into the air. They were silent, as Archer continued to glower at her. Her expression became milder as the impact of his statement slammed against her.

This was an unexpected turn of events. She'd anticipated that he would rant and rave, but didn't think he'd level this at her. What concerned her was how serious he appeared -- like he meant every word he said, and somehow she began to think about how he must be feeling. This relationship, up until last week, could've been classified as perfect. They'd never argued (as she'd gathered human couples were prone to do) and enjoyed each other's company. So, to say this, and so earnestly, meant he must've been brooding about this eventuality for some time.

"You don't mean it," she said.

"Isn't that what you want?" he asked. "I've been trying to be supportive, even if I don't understand. But, you haven't been meeting me halfway," he admitted.

She remained quiet.

"And, I've tried to be gracious and follow your customs, as much as I can or know how to. It's just not good enough. I'm too loud, I pile too much food on my plate … I guess … I guess the truth to you is … I'm just not good enough for you."

She searched his face and her feelings. "You would end our relationship so easily?" she finally asked.

"I don't feel like you're giving me much of a choice. How did you feel when you thought Trip was embarrassed of you?"

She was silent.

"Well, I feel awful," he said. He wasn't kidding; his stomach was threatening to launch itself through his throat and his head was spinning. Being ill and emotionally wrung out was wreaking havoc on his body. Weakly, he got up – barely making it into the bathroom to throw up.

T'Pol folded her arms and stared at the ground, thinking she'd been selfish. He was obviously unwell, but she'd insisted on finishing an argument -- something she was normally loath to do.

She strolled over to the doorway of the bathroom and peered in. "Jonathan, are you all right?"

The corners of her mouth tugged down when she heard him wretch.

"The doctor said you may feel sick to your stomach for a few more hours. I can ask him to return if you would like," she added.

"I don't need your help," he whined.

T'Pol spied the washcloth on the floor next to his bed, obviously thrown down in haste, and picked it up. She glided over to the bathroom and crouched down, placing it on his forehead. He leaned over the commode and spilled his stomach again as she caressed his hair … and for the first time in weeks felt his thoughts.

She detected anger, weariness, illness and … hurt. In fact, "hurt" was the primary emotion. He wanted to be with her, she was right about that. Of course, he'd realized he'd made some mistakes, but his intentions were good: the shower he'd taken was to help prevent the Vulcans from smelling him; the alcohol he'd drunk was accepted because of Soval's kindness; and he'd allowed her and the innkeeper to invade his privacy while putting on a brave face. Truly every action he took was meant to bring her honor, rather than shame.

Sifting through his thoughts, she realized the whole reason he'd wanted to come to Vulcan in the first place: to be with her … and see where she grew up and what her family was like. In other words, he wanted to experience her world and life through her eyes. It was his love for her that had prompted this curiosity, rather than his pride; T'Pol had for the past week believed it was mostly his hubris.

Letting the touch linger, she ran her fingers through his hair. At times, Jonathan underneath all the blustering was a quiet soul who had difficulty himself dealing with and accepting emotions. It seemed, as humans would say, his heart was in the right place.

Regret tingled down her spine. She had surmised he had tried to tell her these things before, in his own way, but she'd been resistant to the information -- wanting to show the Vulcans she was just as reasoned and logical as they were. Possibly she was dismissive of the information because she felt, to use human terms, 'she had something to prove' … and maybe because every time she brought this up, he would begin shouting. Undoubtedly this had touched an old nerve, the suspicion he had of Vulcans most of his life. But, ultimately, Jonathan was right – she had been prejudiced as well.

Her brain fixed on a bit of true logic: V'Lar herself was more emotional than most Vulcans, and she was one of the most respected ambassadors the planet had known. In fact, that was something that T'Pol had always admired and respected; the woman knew how to be Vulcan without seeming rude, obnoxious or snobby. Most commendable of all, she was eager to embrace other cultures. Her species was hardly ever _eager_.

She turned these thoughts over while he focused on emptying his stomach. Feeling her smoothing back his hair in long, gentle strokes, he began to feel better. Within a few moments, she fetched a glass of salt water for him and instructed him to drink.

Brushing her hand across his forehead, she petted his hair back. He was warmer to the touch that she ever remembered, his face was flushed and his eyes looked like Porthos after he had been scolded.

"I believe I understand your desire to see Vulcan," she said. "I did not understand you wished to see the places I had a fondness for. I … apologize."

He frowned. "I thought I'd been clearer."

In many ways, she was right: he didn't know the Vulcan customs as well as he should've (hell, he'd known her and other Vulcans for years – at this point he had no excuse), he'd forgotten to take his injection (he rarely forgot to do things) and maybe he'd been too willing to fall back into old habits – including thinking the Vulcans were out to purposefully make him feel unwelcome.

When he was on Earth, he treated the jibes that humans made against them as a test, and his response was to thoroughly and unconditionally love T'Pol in front of them – showing them up. But, that was a human response … one driven by emotions like pride and fueled by his need to show her fairness.

Besides, he wasn't serving on a ship full of Vulcans for several years having been denied the privilege of seeing Earth. Certainly he'd experience the same emotions she would … or anyone would – the need to belong. Maybe the point he hadn't made to T'Pol was that he didn't really belong on Earth, just as much as she didn't belong on Vulcan. Really, he believed they belonged to each other – and the location never mattered: Vulcan, Earth, Enterprise – he didn't care.

"I'm sorry about everything," he whispered. "I should've known more customs. I should've taken the compound. And you're right – I let past grudges cloud my thinking and judgment."

"You were correct as well; I was thinking more about myself than V'Lar," she said.

Nodding, he decided to apologize for his behavior. "Sorry I raised my voice. I let my emotions get the better of me."

"Thank you."

She pressed her lips to one of his red stained cheeks, smelling sweat, vomit, alcohol and soap on him. And yet … she could not prevent herself from feeling deeply about him.

"Does this mean we're _really_ done fighting?" he asked, quietly.

"I hope so." After a few moments and staring deeply into his green eyes, she asked, "Do you wish to continue our relationship?"

"Yeah … I … I guess I said it out of anger …," he said, his voice trailing off. After pausing for a few moments, he continued. "I love you, T'Pol. I love the way we've been … maybe not for the past week … but other than that everything's seemed perfect."

Because of the relief spreading across her features now, he knew the threat to end the relationship had been particularly hard on her.

"I'm sorry," he added.

She stroked his face again. "I cherish thee as well."

His lip muscles sloped up – it was the first time since arriving on Vulcan he'd felt like he wanted to smile.

With a modicum of difficulty, he picked himself off the floor as T'Pol bent under his arm – permitting him to lean on her. Carefully, she walked him to bed and worked off his clothes until he was in his Starfleet skivvies. He shivered lightly as she drew the covers around him.

She said, "You should get some rest."

"What time's the funeral?" he asked, sleepily.

Rather than correct him with the appropriate name, she let the question stand. "1800 hours." With a near sigh, she said, "I'll bring your breakfast tomorrow morning."

Grinning, he said, "That's sweet of you. Thanks."

As she turned to leave and allow him to get some rest, he whispered, "You know you could sleep over here."

She'd be suffocated by his emotions, forced into a bed that was too small for both of them and privy to the scent of bile and sweat.

"I would like that," she responded.


	4. Part 4

**Two Things Are Certain, Part 4**

**Chapter 9 **

When T'Pol woke up, Jonathan was snoring quietly and leaning heavily against her. As she moved slightly, she noticed all the places his body was touching hers were now hot and sticky. Although it was early in the morning, the man had already begun to perspire … even the sheets were wet. Hoping to avoid a catastrophe like the night before, she stood up and retrieved the hypospray, touching it silently to his neck.

As the tip skimmed his skin, his body jerked awake. When his brain sparked to life, he felt exhaustion pour over him – his body had been put through the wringer; Vulcan's extreme gravity had triggered every single one of his muscles to become sore. He registered a few other ailments: tightened stomach, mental fatigue and the remnants of emotional upheaval. Wiping a bead of sweat from the side of his temple (ignoring the water trickling down his back and pooling under his arms), he bemoaned the planet.

'Vulcan,' he thought with the same condemnation he'd give to the word: hell.

And then he saw her – she was hovering beside him in her clingy blue pajamas with a near-worried expression on her face.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said in his husky morning voice.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I've been worse," he joked. In reality, that was absolutely true: after being beaten, kidnapped and held hostage more times than he could remember, he'd been a lot worse.

T'Pol's eyes softened at his humor. "I'll come back with breakfast for us. I hope you don't expect a meal like you are used to eating."

"Now I know why Vulcans are so skinny," he beamed, looking over her frame. 'Two weeks,' he thought.

"You think I'm too thin?" she asked, getting out of bed.

Leaning up, he rubbed his hand against her exposed hipbone and grinned playfully. "I think you're perfect just the way you are. But, I wouldn't complain if you ate more."

As his hand stroked her, his body became acutely aware of what he'd already reminded it – it'd been two weeks since they'd been intimate. With newfound agility, he sat up, dangled his feet off the bed and pressed his lips against the bone in one graceful motion. To his surprise, he wasn't shooed away or scolded – instead, his girlfriend gave him a wanton stare, as if she too had missed their physical intimacy. That dangerous gaze was just the tiny bit of encouragement his libido needed.

"I thought you didn't feel well," she said. It was illogical to feel a hint of desire, but welcoming contact with him and realizing she wasn't like other Vulcans permitted her attraction … and his.

"I didn't say that," he said, allowing his mouth to continue to caress her.

But, she knew the truth – the sensations rolling off him indicated he felt _amorous_, not better.

"Jonathan," she reprimanded, squashing her own feelings.

"Hmmmm?" he asked, tugging her bottoms to expose a tad more of her hipbone. He suckled it, letting loose a low pant.

"Not now."

He asked a little hoarsely, "Why not now?"

"You may get worse."

Attempting to convince her to give in, his lips traced her stomach and an errant tongue dipped into her navel. He knew she wasn't too keen on it, but his mouth had been dying to dive into the button on her belly.

She took his chin in her hand and whispered, "Not now."

With a sigh, he obliged – laying back on the sheets and trying to calm his overly anxious body. Silently he wondered whether his smell and sweat had already persuaded her to deny his advances.

As if reading his thoughts, she sat on the bed and weaved her hand underneath the covers, resting it on his stomach to caress the hair at his abdomen.

"I want you, but I would like to have you," she began.

A smile crept onto his lips as she uttered the words 'I would like to have you.'

She noticed his grin and added, "… when you feel well."

"You want to know how I feel?" he asked, darkly. Taking her hand in his, he glided it down past his waist. Her eyebrow shot up in response.

"That's how I feel, T'Pol," he whispered.

"I see," she murmured.

In the months that the two had gone out, Jonathan had been wrapped up in desire, and had been sometimes suggestive, but had never been so forward. His typical tactic had been to kiss her and try to evoke lust … maybe creep a hand up her waist to tempt her, and if that didn't work … to accept that she wasn't interested. But now, his eyes were stormy and his mouth hung open by a fraction of an inch, allowing his breath to hiss as she slowly withdrew her hand.

With distraction, the Vulcan stood up and attempted to collect herself.

"I'll be back momentarily." With that, she gathered herself up and escaped.

Defeated, Jonathan's head fell against the pillow. Thinking the best he could do was ready for the day, he pushed himself up for a shower -- a cold one -- and a shave.

**Chapter 10 **

After about forty minutes, T'Pol came back, carrying a breakfast tray. Archer was lying on top of the covers sounds asleep, dressed in shorts and a shirt. The room smelled fresher, as if he'd taken a shower and brushed his teeth; it smelled clean. She put the tray next to his bed and lay down with him; her legs intertwined with his.

Feeling her nestled against him, he yawned sleepily and threw an arm around her. She leaned up and handed him something that looked like orange juice, but pulpier.

"Drink this."

He sat up and sipped at the mixture. "That's pretty good."

"Arntha," she whispered. "It is a mixture of plants and flowers that grow here."

She handed him a bowl of something and said, "I think you will like this."

He took it in his hands and spooned a bite into his mouth. It tasted like a lentil soup. It was fairly bland, but he knew his body needed some proteins.

"Thanks," he said.

She nibbled on something, watching him with hooded eyes. Having her stare like that at him, made him gasp a little. He didn't know if she was teasing him or not, but, he definitely saw "want" in her eyes. His mind spurned the thought -- she'd already indicated she wasn't interested.

"So, what do you plan on doing for the rest of the day?"

Setting her plate down, she whispered, "I could make a few arrangements for us."

He finished the arntha and set his glass down with a light thud.

"Or, I could find other ways to spend the day," she suggested. The tip of her eyebrow flicked.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Remember the day in Tibet when we stayed in bed all day?"

That day had been incredibly romantic. It had taken a lot of coaxing for her to agree to stay in bed with him that morning and afternoon, but by evening, he didn't cajole her at all. In fact, as the day wore on she'd become not only accustomed to the idea, but intrigued by it.

He put his bowl of soup away. This meant she was definitely coming onto him.

"I thought you were going to give me a heart attack," he said.

Starting with his ankle, she kissed up the inside of his leg as his senses went into overdrive. Her lips stopped at his inner thigh. "I remember you enjoying it."

Aggressively, he grabbed her shoulders and drew her up the length of his body to kiss her lips. The two were a little nervous – it felt like it'd been a long time since their lips had touched. With the hesitation of new love, he puckered his lips and gently kissed her mouth. Feeling a little more confident, his mouth relaxed and he kissed her again. Their noses nuzzled each other's as he covered her mouth. Teasing, she backed away and almost smiled as he drew her into his arms more passionately and forcefully.

When his mouth found hers, the unfamiliarity and bashfulness were gone, and his tongue pressed between her lips with authority. Before long, their embraces were filled with sighs, moans and huffs even though their clothes were mostly on.

Adding finger touches, she wondered why this felt so incredible. This sudden change in her emotions was almost as illogical as the first time she and Jonathan made love … _almost_ as illogical. Then and now, she felt the tsunami of desire he held for her – she felt the waves of caring, friendship and love rolling over her and felt almost powerless to stop it. In fact now, despite not wanting to push his recovery, she decided she couldn't wait any longer. Her own emotions were responding to his – she was bustling with excitement as she felt his joy wash over her.

Strangely, it had been this way all morning – watching him wake, while getting breakfast -- literally all she could think about was being with him. Her remaining self-control was eaten away at the forwardness of Jonathan's actions … especially since he was never forward. The baseness of his earlier movements made her want to rip his clothes off.

'Illogical,' she chided herself again. She'd never felt that way. 'Were they his emotions?'

She slipped her hand underneath his hair as he gave a small groan. Her craving was dampened only slightly at thinking about the sweat on his linens. Maybe they could continue elsewhere; it would give her a chance to collect her thoughts – they were almost running amok. With that, she pushed herself up and onto her feet.

Stunned, Jon watched her. In his mind, they definitely weren't finished; they'd only begun. Suddenly images popped to his mind – things he'd been dreaming of doing to her and with her. It wasn't just the act of physicality; after their argument it was important for him to be intimate with her. It just so happened in his mind intimate meant tearing her clothes from her body, kissing her passionately and with fury and ….

"Meet me in my room in ten minutes," she whispered.

He nodded slowly, leering at her as she sauntered out. It gave him just enough time to throw cool water on his face and look in the mirror – his cheeks were red and he was sweating lightly. Well, this was nothing new – he'd felt like a faucet ever since he'd arrived. He knew his body was trying to cool him down, but wished it wasn't so efficient. After pacing, clenching and unclenching his hands and watching the clock for eight minutes, he decided to knock on her door.

Seductively, she greeted him at the portal. A deep purple robe covered her tiny frame, showing off her hazel eyes. Meditation candles were lit in the background – a delicious cinnamon-like spice wafting through the room.

He thought, 'Great. More heat,' but welcomed the sensuality it seemed to bring to T'Pol.

Leaning on the door jam, he wondered whether it was seeing her or catching the scent of the spice in the air – whatever it was, it was making his mouth water … it was causing him to look at her like a man who'd been trapped in the desert for days on end looking at an oasis. She gathered his hands and led him inside as he kicked the door behind him closed with his heel.

A buzzing filled his brain – something besides the overwhelming lust, it had been there a while. It'd been there since the night he'd been contacted with the information about Ambassador V'Lar.

It was the same tingling in his mind that knew she wanted him to dart his hands down the back of her robe. And so he did, reveling in her response.

"Yes," she whispered.

Feeling the silk between his fingers, he registered an important fact right away: she was completely nude underneath. As his nose dipped against her neck, he noticed she'd scented herself -- she rarely did. The buzzing in his mind told him to run his tongue along the base of her neck and to gather perfume onto his taste buds. Sipping at her throat, he savored the liquid -- he was intoxicated on her.

Countering his movements, her hands slid under his shirt – pawing at his chest … raking his skin underneath her fingernails. Because she'd denied herself emotions for two weeks, his lips and tongue against her neck caused her to pant and lunge toward him. Parting only briefly, she pushed his shirt over his head and pulled him toward the bed.

"Oh," he moaned, thinking that was exactly what he was hoping she'd do.

Tokens of love were usually offered to her as he attempted to woo her, but not this morning. _This morning_, he groaned hoarsely about how much he wanted her … how he wanted to have her, and for some reason that was exactly what she wanted to hear. Scalding – his breath against her ear reminded her of walking on desert sand around mid-day.

Losing track of his movements, she felt him push the robe off her shoulder and teasingly bite it. Then, with the same torturous movements, he exposed more of her skin and flicked his tongue against it. Before they reached the bed, he pushed her against him – with greed. The same avarice coursed through her -- her teeth gnawed at his earlobe and she heard herself whisper to him, enticing him to continue.

Like a storm picking up strength, she felt him become more insistent and his motions strayed from enthusiastic to furious. As his fingers tore at the knot in her robe, he took a deep anticipating breath, parted her robe down the center and watched it hang on her frame. Crushing his lips against hers he nudged her onto the bed as he crawled over her.

The want seeped out of every pore – throwing her ordered mind into chaos, especially since his emotions were exquisitely unsafe. Every nibble, nip and bite, forced her back to arch into him and a quiet moan to escape her lips.

'This isn't rational,' part of her screamed out. She'd gone from one extreme to another – living without emotions to welcoming them hoist upon her. But, for some reason she didn't care. It was not the time for mating, but her body thought something clear and evident: it was the time to mate with him. She wanted union.

'Why?' she wondered.

"God, I crave you," he whispered.

His onslaught was unstoppable, and her willpower was depleted; she couldn't help but writhe under him and whisper with unVulcan-like acquiescence, "yes."

Dominantly, he pressed his fingers to her temple. An itch raced across his mind, encouraging him.

"My mind to your mind," he whispered, in near ecstasy.

_'Jonathan,' she warned. Deep within her mind, she echoed to herself, 'He has never done this before.' _

_As he blew into her mind, she heard the pitter-patter of rain on the sands of the desert. Tiny darkened droplets began to spread until buckets of water poured from the lightning-illuminated sky. _

_Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if heralding a titan -- she knew that the rain was **his**; she knew it meant he was nearby. The rain tickled her skin and wet her hair, causing utter confusion to set in; no one had ever penetrated her inner sanctuary like this. In essence, he entered her thoughts … and did so easily … without thought to the actions. _

_'It can't be,' she whispered to herself, out of his reach. _

_Shivering, doused with water, her clothes and hair clung to her body as her eyes penetrated the storm. _

_'Jonathan?' she called out. _

_A gust of wind kicked up, as she spied a shadowy figure – he was soaked and his clothes stuck to his skin. The breeze whipped his hair, shirt and pants and his voice was like the booming of darkened clouds swirling above. _

_'Yes,' said the darkened figure. 'You know it's me, why did you ask?' _

_She avoided the question. Doubt nagged at her mind as she attempted to control her thoughts. It was happening so fast … too quickly; she tried to conjecture why. _

_The shade followed him to her and for the first time she saw his face. She could tell it was him mostly by his eyes – they were like a lagoon: a deep murky green. His small, thin lips were drawn loosely together as he stalked toward her. _

_With trepidation, she scrambled away, but was too clumsy to flee from him. Catching her, he folded her into his arms as his pupils enlarged and the skies burst. _

_His mind answered back, 'Let go of your control.' Possessively, he dragged them to the ground. _

_Endeavoring to restrain her emotions, she wiggled out of his grasp and noticed with fear a tidal wave looming in the distance. _

_'I have to leave,' she whispered, watching the seas encroach. _

_His hand seized hers and forced her arms over her head, while his mouth devoured her lips. Water rushed over them, covering them … drenching them. As she gasped for air, another wave pummeled them, spraying foam onto her. Fighting underneath him with little success, she was submerged again. _

_'I'm not forcing you to stay. Your mind knows what you can't accept,' he whispered, probing deeper into her mind. 'We're one.' _

_'This is a mistake,' she said, writhing underneath him. _

_Within an instant, she tried to vanquish him from her mind, but he remained in control. His words drizzled over her brain – if she wanted him to leave her mind, she could easily force him away. Her struggling had been feeble, particularly since her mind and limbs were stronger. _

_At that realization, T'Pol looked out onto the horizon; she could see the entire ocean speeding toward them. Scuttling to her feet to run, she felt his hand reach out and grab her arm. _

_'Don't resist,' he said. 'You belong to me.' _

_The water overtook them swiftly, plunging her to depths she couldn't imagine. His mouth covered hers breathing life into her, keeping her from swallowing water … keeping her from falling away. As they drifted down, tumbling into the sea, she realized he was taming her mind, and that she was beginning to tame his. _

_'This cannot be,' she claimed. 'You are human.' _

_As they floated into the blackness, he took her to his deepest soul and showed her every thought, memory and idea he'd ever had. She was flooded with images of him – things that she had never seen before … things no one knew, but him. _

_It was all happening so hastily -- she was drowning in thoughts and emotions that she couldn't understand. The information he held sacrosanct made her spasm in ecstasy. She knew everything about him and trembled at the knowledge. As she gathered all the records from his mind, he continued to plumb the depths with her. _

_'Human? Does that matter?' he asked. 'I belong to you.' _

_Blinded by darkness, the only inkling she had of reaching the very bottom was the sand that squished between her toes. The sea and the desert had merged. And here, in his inner sanctum, he was still and calm – much like she was in the desert. _

_So many thoughts washed over her, but one seemed prevalent and perhaps frightening: with his arms wrapped around her and his lips on hers, she felt complete. And as his mouth captured hers just once more, she knew with certainty he felt complete as well. _

_'You and I are one, T'Pol,' he thought. His fingers intertwined with hers. _

Jon's eyes focused on her trembling underneath him, despite the heat. Taking his hand away from her temple, he noticed how alive he felt … how invigorated.

"That has not happened before," she admitted, submissively.

He laughed, "Seems like it happens almost every time we do this." He brushed his nose against hers mischievously and she gave another tiny spasm, as if to prove his point.

"No, you've never entered my mind in that manner," she panted, trying to catch her breath.

"Did you like it?" he asked, grinning. Strange – before he attached his fingers to her temple, he could almost hear her begging him to do it.

"Jonathan …?"

Very seriously, she knitted her brow, which caused an apology to launch from his throat. "Sorry, was I not supposed to?"

"Aisha …," she whispered, her eyes brimming with wonder.

"What?" he asked, thinking what just happened was incredible without really understanding it.

"You penetrated deeper than before," she said, touching two fingers along his lips.

"Your thoughts?" he asked, kissing her fingertips. Fear and love wiggled their way into his brain and ran through his body … but it wasn't his; in fact, he knew those emotions belonged to her. Rolling off of her, he gathered the covers around her and kissed her forehead as if to reassure her.

"What?" he asked, sensing she wanted to say something.

T'Pol was afraid to test her theory. _'You do not understand,' she thought._

"What don't I understand?" he asked aloud. He noticed she hadn't moved her lips, but he heard her voice distinctly. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out how that happened.

_'I assume you can hear my thoughts?' she asked. _

"Did you just ask if I can hear your thoughts?" he questioned, suspicious of his own mind.

"No," she corrected. "I thought it."

Wrinkles sprouted onto his forehead, as he tried to comprehend.

"I thought it in my mind."

"We're not linked anymore …," he said, lamely. It was difficult to piece together what was happening, and why this time, unlike so many others, he didn't feel quiet and reflective after their meld. Instead, he felt elated -- satisfied in his mind, body and soul.

"Perhaps this is temporary," she suggested. It was illogical that it would be more than temporary. It was impossible that the two would be able to share thoughts and feelings for longer. Well, improbable, was more accurate … highly improbable.

"What's going on?" he asked. He squinted his eyes at her, waiting for her to drop a bomb on him. And he wasn't disappointed.

"You can hear my thoughts," she whispered. "Just as I can hear yours."

"You mean now?" he asked, just wanting a straight answer.

"You want a … straight answer … I'll give it to you. Vulcans can hear the thoughts and feel the emotions of a bondmate. Although Vulcans can … mate … with other species we rarely do. In most cases, 98.9%, the species is unable to maintain a link with a Vulcan outside of a meld."

"Okay," said Archer, trying to follow her logic. He had so many questions it was difficult to select just one.

"It has been proven that humans are not telepathic. I assumed you and I would never share emotions … or thoughts … once the meld was severed."

"So, you're telling me we can share thoughts, despite not being linked?" he asked. Sensing she was agreeing, he asked, "But this is only temporary?"

"Yes. Of course," she said. With more confidence, she added, "I am _certain _that it is only for a short period of time. During this time, you will be more susceptible to my thoughts and emotions, and vice-versa."

"So, if it's temporary, why are you scared?" he asked, feeling concern in her mind.

She would have to better hide her emotions now that he was aware of them.

"Regardless of the permanency of this … situation, you have progressed our relationship without realizing it," she commented, turning to look at the wall.

"Progressed?" he asked, wrapping his sweaty arms around her. He gave her temple a kiss, trying to prevent her from withdrawing.

"Yes. How do you feel about me?" she asked, trying to clear her mind.

"Do you need to ask?" he questioned. Knowing for some reason she did, he said what he thought was only too obvious. "I love you."

And she could tell he meant it; he was right, she never had any doubt. She rolled over to face him.

"I … care for you deeply, Jonathan. More than I have for anyone else."

Cuddling her in his arms, he gave her a kiss on her nose. "I know."

A sigh caught deep within her throat – there was so much more to explain about the consequences of what he'd done … what she'd allowed him to do.

"Like what?" he asked, picking up that thought. Gazing over her face, she seemed so vulnerable lying reposed with a slight frown tossed on her wide, thick lips. This was hardly the Vulcan he saw on a regular basis, but in a very human and male way, he kinda liked it.

"It forces us into the next stage of our relationship," she commented, a furrow sprung between her slanted brows. Remarkably, he was taking all of the news with relative ease.

Half of his smile fell, but the gleam in his eyes was still there. "Next phase of our relationship?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Like?"

"It's difficult to explain," she said. It was in a sense, but she couldn't find the words to ask whether he'd thought about a deeper commitment. Wrapping her hands around the covers, she drew them up to her chin tightly and defensively.

Nuzzling against her, he said, "I'm committed to you, T'Pol."

Commitment – she knew he was a little afraid of marriage. He'd skirted it almost all his life. Once unwillingly, but three times eagerly, causing those relationships to come to a crashing halt. It felt peculiar to know this much detail about him.

"You feel weird knowing so much about me?" he asked. It was easy to pick up in her mind information about Margaret, Caroline, Rebecca and Sarah.

"So … marriage?" he asked.

"It's not quite marriage," she whispered. "But, it's more than what we are now."

Trying to wrestle some of the seriousness out of the conversation, he asked playfully, "Then what is it? I mean, am I supposed to meet your family or something?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Actually, yes. Undoubtedly they would want to determine whether you are an adequate suitor."

_An adequate suitor?_ He frowned. Both of her parents were deceased, but he'd gathered she had gobs of family all over Vulcan – and they'd probably be as snooty as the ones that "greeted" them when they'd reached the planet.

Before her words could respond to his thoughts, he backpedaled. One thing was certain: he loved her. Maybe another truism was: they belonged together – whatever that meant to her – he guessed whatever prodding and poking her relatives did … whatever their grueling tests, he could do it for her.

Her mind quieted at the data. There was much to discuss – what the next step was, which relatives he'd have to meet and what tests he truly would have to endure.

"They will determine … whether you would be a suitable bondmate." Sensing he had a thousand other questions waiting, she tried to be clearer. "One of the tests, for example, would determine whether you could endure Pon Farr."

"Pon Farr?" he asked.

A trickle of thoughts was sent to him: the madness, the blood fever, the time of mating. Images of insane Vulcans desperately yearning to have sex were immediately shown to him – reminding him maybe too much of the doomed pictures he'd seen of the crew of the Vankara. He couldn't help but recoil slightly.

'_Once I have entered Pon Farr, we would bond. If my family approves of you, you would be my bondmate or … lifemate.' _

Without realizing it, he gulped loudly. "So, is this progression like an engagement?"

"Engagement?" she asked.

He sent her thoughts about what, as a much younger man, he'd hope to have with Margaret – flowers, a ring, a couple of parties hosted by friends, approval from relatives and finally picking out a church. With amusement, he doubted the Vulcan would want many, if any of these things, and certainly wouldn't force him to pick out china and other things two people did when they got married.

"Not like an engagement," she said. "China patterns?" she asked. As perplexed as Jonathan was about Pon Farr and Kunut Kal'i'farr, she was equally baffled about this detail.

"It's not important," he said referring to the china patterns, and maybe the engagement itself. _Kal'i'farr?_ It was a union. Marriage. Marriage?

"Not marriage. Not yet," she said. "This thought disturbs you?"

"Well, no …," he said. What did bother him was he needed to clarify what _progressed_ meant and why it sounded so mysterious and ominous. In truth, he'd probably be okay with whatever it was, if he could figure out _what_ it was.

T'Pol knew this would be challenging, but had nothing to offer him. "I have explained everything I can."

"So, it's not marriage. It's not an engagement. What the hell is it?"

It was none of these things, but he didn't seem satisfied with that. "Perhaps it is like a pre-engagement."

She didn't offer any images or words; there were none.

"So, how does this differ from before?" he asked.

"It simply does," she said.

_'Well that didn't help one damned bit.' _

Sensing his irritation, she said, "It means you must meet my family, if you choose to."

"I'm committed to you," he said again. Well, it seemed like this was confusing to both of them. He softened a little and told her what his heart truly felt. "I love you, and if it's customary among your people to have a … pre-engagement, where I meet your family and take their tests, then so be it."

This man was completely overwhelming. Nibbling his lips, she thought Jonathan many times was too dear for words. That's probably why she loved him.

The sensation of adoration left him completely satiated. She was not a woman of sentiment – being a Vulcan – but now that he was clued into her emotions, when she let them out, their profundity stunned him. She may not be able to tell him she loved him, but she felt something akin to it. In fact, her thoughts revealed that she 'loved him very much.'

Archer looked at his watch, sitting on her bedside table. It was only noon. He wondered if T'Pol would be interested in lazing around and making love.

_'I would like that,' she thought, leaning in to kiss him. _

That's exactly what he wanted to hear … even if it he didn't exactly "hear" it. The only question he held was what time she would need to go to the Great Hall.

_'Great Hall?' he asked himself, unsure why he knew that particular detail. _

"It's what you would call V'Lar's funeral," she said.

"Ah," he felt he needed to say.

_'It's tonight at 1600 hours. Perhaps we can stay like this for a few hours more?' _

Maybe this sharing thoughts thing wasn't too bad. Her entreating lips met his as she thought of them entangled again. Wanton thoughts immediately formed in her Vulcan mind – she imagined him drenched with sweat and calling her name.

_'Nope,' he thought, 'sharing thoughts wasn't so bad after all.' _

_'It does have advantages,' she agreed. With a smile in her eyes, she reminded herself they could sort out all the details, including why she'd acted so illogically before and during their embrace, later. For now, she would allow the moment to move her. _

_'Later's good,' he thought, as his mouth touched the tip of her ear._


	5. Part 5

**Two Things Are Certain **

**Part Five **

Mt. Selaya was a popular pilgrimage site – besides providing some of the most spectacular views of Vulcan (including canyons and a view of Shi'Kar), something the inhabitants themselves didn't find particularly appealing, it housed the Great Hall: the destination of the greatest Vulcan katras. Some of the most brilliant minds in Vulcan's history were located there -- Surak (the father of Vulcan logic), T'Val (the first leader after Surak and one of his greatest followers), San (the founder of the Kolinahr) and many other names she'd read about in the annals of Vulcan history.

Overwhelming.

It was beyond incredible that _she _was asked to this place – a building she'd never seen … a building so sacred that its picture wasn't in any Vulcan database, it's visage never displayed. The word – its character -- was awarded a sacred symbol and referred to only with the utmost reverence by the most devout Vulcans. This place was a shrine.

Two columns of twenty torches led to the door of the mausoleum and shed just enough light to see the gargantuan statues that guarded the temple – Surak and his wife T'Pana. Their hands were crossed over their chest – the Vulcan sign of death – but their eyes remained wide open as if they could see all who entered. T'Pana's face contained more expression, one of welcome. Surak's face was stoic, but seemed only slightly stern, as he looked into the distance to guard the most honored katras. It was a legend that his face embraced only the purest of logic (like a father).

Approaching the great steps, she gazed over the edifice. Time … centuries upon centuries … had aged its outside – the sand-colored walls were darkened and tattered in areas, but the building's beauty and glory remained untouched. As the moons slipped over the horizon and Vulcan's suns ascended to their slumber, she sucked in the cool, mountain air.

Before stepping through the enormous stone doors that loomed before her, T'Pol gathered her long black cloak around her (dark colors were apparently formal color to Vulcans as well), propped the hood up over her head, straightened the Vulcan symbol pinned to the chest of her garment and took another deeper breath. It was peculiar that now, T'Pol mused, one of Vulcan's most rebellious and emotional offspring was about to enter. Ironic really, she thought to herself.

Turning her head slightly behind her shoulder, she watched over the city – specks of white coming alive in each house, and then settled her eyes ahead to see the moons casting a shimmering glow onto the tomb and the faces of two Vulcan leaders who brought her people into enlightenment. There was majesty in the moment.

Overwhelming.

Being with humans helped her appreciate beauty – especially beauty found in small moments. With a smile in her eyes, she thought this was one of them and secretly wished Jonathan could see this with her.

_Jonathan. _

Temporarily sharing thoughts with Jonathan was difficult and left her own thoughts unfocused … probably due to his mind's constant chatter. It continually asked itself questions and made comments as new data entered the brain, which rumbled now in her mind. He thought about inane and trivial matters such as, "Hmm – the Vulcans don't seem to have very many pages about their own families and yet banquets made up somewhere around one thousand pages. I wonder why they don't have information about their families in the database. Humans would. Humans would have a lot of information about their own families provided to other species. It seemed that Vulcans value appearances more than …."

It couldn't be just Jonathan's brain; of all the humans she'd encountered, he was the most logical. His mind was keen and his thoughts, at least to those who observed only his actions, seemed focused. Seeing into Trip's thoughts, when their minds were sporadically linked months ago, she noted they were more scattered and his voice less pronounced than Jonathan's. Perhaps she should be thankful she did not share constant temporary thoughts with the engineer – it would undoubtedly be taxing.

Humans' brains, she decided, were continuously seeking answers and knowledge, without taking the time to properly ponder the questions and digest the information they'd received. They were erratic, unfocused and undisciplined, zooming from topic to topic with only a thread – the width of a human's hair – that connected them. She'd need to depart more than just the rudimentary skills she'd left him with; she still heard his thoughts wane in and out, like a communicator on the fritz.

_'We're able to sort through the … _mind chatter_,' he answered her, having heard her thoughts about him. _

_Teasingly she replied, 'It's a wonder your species evolved at all.' _

_With something she guessed was a chuckle, he came back with, 'Actually, I think it's how we evolved. Humans, millions of years ago, had a lot of predators.' _

_'Hmmm ….' _

Without saying more, she forced her thoughts to become more remote and reflected on him in general. Besides his … noisy thoughts … she could feel something else from him on an almost continual basis: desire. And just thinking about it made her head spin for a moment as if that lust belonged to her and emanated from her. Taking a hand to her temple and pushing a lock of hair back, she reflected on how passionate he'd been over the course of the last few weeks. The night that she discovered V'Lar had perished, he seemed almost eager to break down all her mental barriers with this … hunger.

Probably the most concerning part was – she'd enjoyed it. Immensely. For all her fighting to keep his mind from enveloping hers and discouragement for a more amorous embrace, she had to admit that she hadn't wanted him to hold back at all. Instead, she'd wanted him almost continually. _She_ wanted to stay entangled his arms, have his lips travel up her neck and even in their last encounter nearly begged him for more. It merely seemed that he responded to her.

And even in the week she'd secluded herself, she ignored a tiny voice that wanted him. Badly. That thought sparked something more dangerous.

_'What's happening? Perhaps ...?' _

"I trust Archer is well," said a familiar voice, interrupting her mind.

Jumping back in the moment and she noticed her former superior, Ambassador Soval, walking toward her draped in a cloak of midnight with golden runes on his cloak sewn on the front.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed ghostly figures draped in black floated past and up the stairs to the Great Hall -- dignitaries, friends and relatives of V'Lar. The giant stone doors of the Great Hall creaked open – permitting attendees' entrance.

"He is," she said.

"It is unfortunate your liaison has been uncovered," he said, evenly.

Giving only the faintest hint of a frown, she nodded in agreement.

"There are Vulcans here tonight who attended the banquet."

Her eyes met the ground.

"There was some discussion about your impropriety, T'Pol."

"As the captain's first officer, I am primarily responsible for his …."

"As his first officer, or … _ne-tor'ashaya_?" he asked, coolly. Seeing her response – wide eyes – he added, "I don't believe that, but they do."

"Their classification of my relationship does not concern me," she said. The word Soval used was base – taking the non-Vulcan ideal of love and giving a soiled context to it … dirtying it. Ne-tor'ashaya was lurid and seedy like one who only engaged in the act of sex.

Furrowing his brow by millimeters, he looked on with care at his former protégé. "Regardless," he said. "I think it best you do not come into the Great Hall tonight."

A prickling feeling worked down her spine … and for a moment she sensed Jonathan becoming aware of her argument with the Vulcan. With difficulty, she forced his noise from her mind and continued.

"You would ask me not to attend the rites as V'Lar requested?" she asked.

The Vulcan leaned in closer than he ever had before. Although his eyes remained steely, his voice softened only minutely. "The ambassador's family is not as … liberal as she was. They have requested you do not enter."

A furrow knitted between her brows. "But, it is my right as a Vulcan to attend. V'Lar herself …."

Holding a hand in front of him, he silenced her. "Out of respect for her family, I hope you choose not to enter."

Although Vulcans never made "a scene," their version of the cold shoulder was more lethal and would reverberate for years to come … and would cost her family their reputations. By entering the mausoleum, she knew they would suffer.

"I have … arranged … for the ceremony to be held for you in private," he said.

T'Pol's eyes met his.

"V'Lar's family permits this?" she asked.

"They preferred not to be … associated with you. Attending the Great Hall alone, without the presence of other Vulcans, allows them to maintain their honor," he said.

Associated was not the word he wanted to use. V'Lar's family had stormed (as much as Vulcans could) into the Vulcan High Command and demanded that T'Pol not sully the Great Hall with her presence. As T'Pol's mentor, and a friend of her family, he risked his own name to strike this bargain. But, he knew it was one that both parties would agree to – a negotiation that was sure to appeal to both sides. After all, he was a trained diplomat and ambassador; settling disputes between Vulcans was far easier than doing so between his species and Andorians or Earthlings.

With defeat, T'Pol asked, "May I come here in four days? Or will the priest have performed the ceremony?"

Soval with moderate relief, folded his arms into his garb and agreed to the date.

"You may come then, T'Pol."

As she turned to walk away, he cautioned, "Your relationship with Archer is putting you in a precarious position …. The High Command does not want to hear of further improprieties between the two of you."

Her mouth hung ajar to rebel, when he continued. "It is best you do not discuss your relationship in the open."

Quietly, she countered, "What if we have entered the first phases and are telik?"

An eyebrow jumped against his forehead and his eyes narrowed. "You are united?"

Normally matters like this weren't discussed with non-family, but she needed to explain her behavior – her relationship wouldn't vanish over night. She was now committed to it and introducing Jonathan to her family.

With silent clarity, her eyes gave him an affirmation.

His arms left his robes and his hands locked behind his back. "Only family will know?"

"That is my intention."

"And if he does not meet the challenges?"

"I will ask him to return to the ship."

"Does he know this prohibits your relationship?"

"No," she whispered. She didn't want to think about that possibility. "But, if he meets the challenges …?"

"If your family approves, the High Command has no reason to object," he replied.

Drawing his cloak to his neck, he watched the last of the attendees enter the Great Hall. He knew Vulcans could be snobby people, and watched as many pointedly ignored the young woman in front of him. It was something, that no thanks to his many years on Earth, he actually disliked about his own race … which was why he stayed by her side until the last possible moment. Because of his age, his reputation was not important and could be dismissed as the wanderings of an old man. Vulcans afforded more respect and allowances for the elderly. His lifespan was firmly on the scale that leaned toward dead – it enabled him to throw his head up in the air and continue talking with one of his brightest pupils. As he stared down at the young woman, he silently wished her all the logic, life and prosperity that one of Vulcans most rebellious children could receive … and then some. His hand made the "V" of welcome, care and hope and fell to his side.

With a nod, Soval walked into the Great Hall, leaving T'Pol's alone in the dark on top of the mountain – her cloak flapping helplessly in the night breeze.

Soval's words gave her some comfort. Inter-species marriages were extremely rare. She'd heard of a couple being ostracized from Vulcan for not following the wishes of the family. Although it was difficult to disobey the desires of relatives, perhaps she'd grown accustomed to humans' cavalier understanding of relationships – each individual was responsible for choosing his or her life partner. As egalitarian as Vulcan was, traditions … those invented in the time of Surak … were difficult to change – impossible to alter. People clung to the old ways to help them sort out their lives; change was not something that the inhabitants would do easily or readily. She remembered a line Surak spoke when on the steps of Z'ana-ashal (a famous market in Shi'Kar) to the warlords of Vulcan about why he followed logic and reason like a religion. It was a passage she'd always admired, "Being the first to embrace a new idea, a good idea, is never easy, but it can be the most worthwhile. The path of Vulcans should be more _worthwhile_."

Silently, she headed into the shuttle and made her way back to the inn. Since she would not be participating in the Kolinahr and would be seeing her relatives in neighboring villages, she decided she should make arrangements to go to her childhood home in T'Lal. A hint of a frown formed – she hadn't seen that home in ages … not since her father died some years back. Although her cousin Rama had agreed to check in occasionally on it, she wondered if the same smells and artwork were there.

She hadn't expected to visit it, much less take Jonathan – a human – to that place.

* * *

Archer was alone in his room, looking over Vulcan customs. Now that he could ignore the traditions of the banquet, he had 300 screens to scroll through on familial relations. Only in a Vulcan database would he find more entries on expected behavior at a Vulcan banquets than information about Vulcan families. With pride, Jonathan thought humans would be just the opposite – more data would be provided about families.

Well, this was Vulcan and he should do as the Romans … or Vulcans … do.

The reason he combed through the database, besides wanting to make 'it' (everything he'd done up until this point) up to T'Pol – which he really wanted to do – was these so-called tests … challenges. Unfortunately, Vulcans had precious little data on the challenges that she'd wanted to him to take to deem that he was worthy of her. He didn't know the name they used for the trials, but found absolutely nothing on it. What he did find was information about a Vulcan survival test that proved a child was ready for adulthood, one that helped purge emotions or prove there were none, school exams, etc.

He also found this tidbit"

_Vulcans become betrothed at an early age. Male's parents arrange the union and the female's parents accept it, based on various social and economic factors, including stature in the community. _

Archer was pretty sure that humans wouldn't have any stature in a Vulcan community, or if they did that he personally would have one lower than other humans.

The PADD also had a few sections about kal'i'farr – marriage – which seemed normal enough. Two people uniting in whatever Vulcans united in, but probably wasn't holy matrimony, and then settling down logically. There was hardly any data about the event itself. Scratching his head, he wondered what Vulcan brides wore, whether they ate cake (he decided right away they didn't, at least judging by T'Pol's lack of a sweet tooth), if brides threw a bouquet or if Vulcan men ran their hand up a leg to toss the garter (definitely no garter) and if they participated in honeymoons.

_'Marriage and honeymoons,' he thought, sloping his mouth up at the left corner. _

Every time he saw her, even when he was angry with her on Enterprise this past week, his heart had tangoed in his chest and goose bumps had formed along his arm. It was the insipid kind of love that made him daydream about her from time to time with a smile in his heart. It'd been a long time since he'd felt this way.

Just today, he'd watched T'Pol sleep for an entire hour, caressing her hair as he gazed at her eyes dancing behind their lids, and listened to her deep, peaceful breathing. Sighing, he'd even taken pride in the way she'd curled her body submissively into his and rested her cheek onto his chest. It awakened something else he'd been feeling for a while – domineering like a protector or a warrior.

_'I'm hardly a protector,' he scolded himself. _

If anything T'Pol, he reasoned, needed protection _from _him. He wasn't just in love with her, wanting to shower her with kisses; he lusted after her – craved her.

Lately his skin felt itchy as if he'd needed to rub his fingernails somewhere in between his mid back and lower left-hand shoulder. It was driving him insane. Maybe the first night he really noticed it had been when Admiral Forrest contacted him about V'Lar's death; he remembered his brain, and other parts of his body, revving to be with her …. Ever since then it just seemed to get worse, including occasionally staring – like the heat of the Vulcan suns.

It was emanating deep within him like a roaring fire, and warmed his entire body; the flames licked at his heart making it race. It controlled him. Lust. The idea of pushing her onto – hell, it didn't matter the bed, the floor, against the wall – appealed to him. _Greatly_ appealed to him and before he realized it his mouth gave way to a leering smile.

_'What the hell is wrong with me?!' he asked himself._

He'd chalked it up to a lack of intimacy, but the truth was: he'd been without sex for a lot longer than a couple of weeks. Yet his body had been acting, still was, like it belonged to a teenager – all keyed up with teeming hormones pulsating and yearning to break free. This included the more embarrassing parts of his teenage years like incredibly sexy dreams and wishing his pants were just a tad looser. Full on desire would hit him at the weirdest times. Yesterday, when she was stepping out of the shuttle, he got a view of her backside. He'd seen it plenty of times before, and more bare, but for some reason seeing it this time made him flush. Hearing her speak Vulcan was kind of a turn on, too. Damn, seeing her put on lipstick felt like going to an "R" rated movie – titillating without being too much.

He wasn't pubescent. He hadn't felt this way since … well, since he was possibly sixteen or so. And even then he felt he had a better handle (so to speak) on things. And, that's before he had a girlfriend or had enjoyed the company of women.

Wiping his forehead, he realized he was already sweating. Oh, this was just ridiculous. Maybe it wasn't this way all the time; after all, he had to be cajoled a little this afternoon.

Before their second, and last, foray of the day – T'Pol had kissed and caressed him, initiating their rendezvous. In his mind, it began innocently enough, but she'd seemed determined on more. Nuzzling, finger touching and kissing, had led to nibbling, caressing and the meeting of their tongues … and then had given way to biting (the kind that left bruises along his clavicle and her hipbone), grabbing and clawing … especially her fingernails against his skin. When she'd finally pinned his arms against the bed, indicating she wanted control (which normally thrilled him), he'd bitten back a growl, possessively threw her onto the bed and stalked over her. As he'd faced her and control began to creep back into his brain, he'd thought about apologizing; he'd heard a rush of air escape her lungs as her body smacked against the bed -- unprepared, not hurt. But, as he'd opened his mouth to utter an apology, she'd snaked her hand into his hair tugging it savagely and then forced his mouth to hers.

Although the thoughts echoing in her mind had been "yes," he'd felt out of control. Unlike the loving passion earlier, their teeth, nails, fingers and mouths caused tiny bruises and scrapes down each other's body. Even T'Pol had been frenzied, and it pleased him to know it; it satisfied him to see her succumb to him and so readily. And, her lips suckling marks on his body had been glorious – so heavenly he couldn't stop his voice from encouraging her.

Luckily neither did any damage where it was visible to public inspection, but the thought of unleashing his thoughts and body on her was exhilarating at the moment and now … frightening.

The one consolation he had: this lust was really built on love. Its foundation began with two friends who'd grown closer, his absolute adoration of her (even when she wasn't his) and then eventually to her returning his feelings. After five months or so, their relationship had plenty of time to mature and grow.

It was clear: this wasn't like other relationships he'd had.

He'd been in love before – the awe inspiring, sighing type with women he didn't want to sleep, or didn't mind sleeping with, and the feelings associated with just a mindless sexual relationship. He wasn't proud, but the relationship with Rebecca had been mostly about sex and he gave himself only small console that she'd wanted mostly the same from him.

This, his relationship with T'Pol, was a wonderful combination of the two. In all his years, he'd come to appreciate these feelings the most; they were the rarest and most beautiful. Though he wanted to throw her on the bed one moment with a blinding passion, after that darker desire was gone he wanted to hold her … and keep on doing so for as long as he could.

He sighed.

T'Pol's thoughts came into focus rapidly and were so apparent to him that for a moment they seemed like his own emotions. She was angry, but as soon as she felt those emotions rise, she allowed them to taper off and Archer felt the ramifications –brief fury. As soon as those thoughts tingled in his brain, a lid was placed on her emotions as if to contain them. She was definitely talking to Soval, but he could see right away she didn't want his interference. So, with a slight frown he ignored his instincts and dismissed her thoughts, since that's what she wanted, and looked down at his PADD again.

_'Right – Vulcan families,' he thought trying to get back into reviewing the data. _

Well, at least there was one interesting tidbit about Vulcans; their nuclear families (as humans called them) were small. Vulcans rarely had more than one child. In fact, it was considered a common practice to only have one; it was logical – really only one was necessary for the species to continue. Archer couldn't ignore the similarities in his own destiny – he was an only child born to a mother almost beyond the recommended age of reproduction.

_'Funny how much we have in common,' he thought. _

For a moment he imagined T'Pol as a little pointy-eared kid running around the planet with pigtails and a stubborn streak the size of the only river that run through Shi'Kar. With large pouty lips and eyes that sometimes shone brown and sometimes had a green tinge to them, he decided she was probably always the cutest Vulcan on the planet. Sensing T'Pol becoming annoyed at his mind chatter, he toned back a bit and worked on quieting his brain.

Having her thoughts available was interesting. Sometimes, he came to a conclusion about how she felt, based on her reaction – or at least her perceived reaction. Being privy to her thoughts, he realized his assumptions were 75 incorrect. For example, he always assumed she didn't care for his body hair, but realized with some amusement she was quite fond of it. Though Vulcans had little hair, she deemed his thick patches of fur – appealing.

It also amazed him to know that she liked specifically the things about him that made him human, especially his laugh. She found his quiet rumble, when released in staccato, wondrous and it caused tiny jolts to scatter across her stomach and a light to gleam in her eye. Although she didn't use the words, she found it – sexy. Her favorite features were his eyes, which were light enough not to be brown, but contained the warmest hint to them. Against the backdrop of his dark brows and the curtain of black eyelashes, they stood out – and were the most reflective of his moods: melancholy, happy, focused (which looked sometimes like brooding), confused and angry (which sometimes looked like brooding). She also liked his hands – long, elegant fingers with manicured nails. When they touched her shivers ran down her spine enticingly.

That was the great thing about knowing how she felt; he could keep doing the things she liked and stop doing the things she didn't like. Even in the small time their mental link … temporary link … had been established, he'd gleaned she didn't like his habit of carelessly tossing worn clothes to the floor. She disliked how he had two pairs of shoes next to the bed – catawampus. And it bothered her that his mind churned at millions of kilometers per second. With a smile, he noted she liked his voice, the one he used usually in the shower, thought he was charming and intelligent and thought his Vulcan wasn't all that bad.

Musing on the last of his strengths, T'Pol walked in with a decided frown on her face.

It seemed he didn't want to say it, but that it had to be said. "Why aren't you at the ceremony?"

Removing her pin and sweeping the cloak off her body, she gave a near pout and dismissed that the man (already sweating) was dressed only in his shorts.

"I was uninvited."

_'Huh?" _

"News about our relationship has spread. V'Lar's family doesn't wish me to disgrace V'Lar with my presence."

"They can't do that," he said, working up a good furrow. His face also held an apology that in his mind he could tell was waved off.

"They can and they did."

"You should tell them to go to Hell."

"That seems to be your answer to everything," she said.

Cluing into her thoughts, he knew it was a subtle joke. A gentle hand reached up to caress her cheek.

"T'Pol, I know how much V'Lar meant to you. And, I know how much this ceremony meant to you."

Throwing her gaze to the ground, she said, "Soval has arranged a private ceremony for me."

Archer could tell immediately that wasn't the solution she wanted. It hurt her feelings that she was unwanted by fellow Vulcans. His mind twirled over various responses like, "Fuck 'em," but, instead of reeling them off, he gathered her in his arms and held her against his chest.

"That was nice of Soval to do that for you," he admitted – able to pick up on the idea that he worked and negotiated to make that happen for her. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all.

"He's always been a good and wise man," she said. _'At least his intentions are honorable, Jonathan.' _

"I know."

Glum, she gave the tiniest of sighs, which made him squeeze her to him just a little tighter.

_'I wonder if she wants to be alone?' he thought. _

"No," T'Pol answered. '_I wouldn't mind your company. Do you mind if I stay here and meditate?' _Her clammy cheek nearly stuck to his warm chest.

_'Of course not,' he answered and kissed her forehead. 'I have some reading to do.' _

She knew what he was reading. "You won't find the challenges in the database. 90 percent of Vulcans marry whomever their parents have arranged them to wed. For the other 10 percent, many refuse to marry, if the match seems particularly illogical. Perhaps 5 percent attempt to marry someone of their choosing. Of course, possibly 1 percent marry outside their species."

He furrowed his brow, wondering what she was getting at.

"Our database is meant to represent the majority of Vulcans. It's not meant to represent 1."

_'I'm started to get a little worried.' _

"You should," she said, calmly. '_You will be expected to do various tasks – they are difficult.' _

"Like what?" he asked. "Climb Mt. Selaya?"

"Yes," she replied, watching his amused expression turn to stunned. _'I know you are an excellent climber,' she thought hearing his mind, 'but it's not as easy as you think. Selaya is over lava beds – the heat that rises from their ….' _

Frowning, he said, "What can I do to prepare?"

"Nothing. It's best not to worry about it."

'_Easy for you to say,' he thought. _

_'Trust me, it is not easy.' _Before she could reveal that if he didn't pass the test, their relationship would be void, she closed her mind wearily.

For some reason, that worried him even more. Physical challenges, he could take – after all, he'd played water polo for years and kept active. He was in excellent … or at least good … condition and thanks to the Tri-Ox compound given to him by Dr. Phlox; he could probably accomplish any feat he set his mind to. He was mostly concerned about tests like – telepathy, non-emotion and logic that concerned him most. A speck of a thought from T'Pol eked through that indicated those would be part of the tests he would be forced to take. As soon as the thought entered his mind it was shut out.

Occasionally during their discussions, Archer felt something akin to a trap close and suddenly eerie silence. He'd guessed this was her way of keeping her thoughts private – things she didn't necessarily want to share. It was too bad he didn't have that ability.

_'I can show you later.' _

Nodding, he sensed she wanted him to stop holding her. Giving into her request, he backed off, but managed to touch his lips to hers gently as he stepped away. A wave rushed over him and he stared into her eyes; she looked so vulnerable with her lip protruding by centimeters and a slight flush to her cheek. Suddenly his heart started to quicken its pace as if he was stalking prey. Rolling his eyes internally, he was miffed at himself – this was the very thing that had been happening too regularly and both the feelings and the frequency irritated him. Trying to force those feelings into his stomach, he sighed in relief as T'Pol, consumed by her own thoughts, walked away.

As he watched on, she prepared the meditation corner -- lighting the candle and spreading out the mat -- and then kneeled down. He crawled back onto the bed and went back to reading about Vulcan.

Settling into her thoughts, avoiding the need to decipher why Vulcans would bar her from attending a ceremony, she began to breathe slowly. Letting her lungs fill to capacity, she blew out a steady breath. Her eyes concentrated on Archer, who'd already gone back to reading the database for familial customs. His foot wiggled around marginally, as he sorted through the 'boring information' and then scrolled through it – working through each topic lost in the data.

Staring at his bare chest and legs, she felt a flash of something. Dismissing it, her mind pinpointed on the day's events and tried to sort them all out. V'Lar's family, Soval, Jonathan and his rippling abdominal muscles that were covered in fine hair.

_'No,' she told herself. _

Realizing her breathing had picked up speed, she scoffed at herself … just as her eyes fell aimlessly on him as he scratched his chin. Squirming at the cleft that marked his magnificent face, she closed her eyes again.

_'Pay attention to your thoughts, not him,' she commanded to herself. _

Without trying, her head filled with questions and thoughts of him. It was this relationship that caused her to suffer embarrassment at the banquet. It was this relationship that triggered Vulcans to shun her from a ceremony she had already invited to. It was this relationship … that produced feelings of friendship, care, laughter, love and desire. It was the same kind of lust that consumed her earlier that afternoon.

_'Lazing,' as he would call it, in bed with him was sensual. The hairs of his legs rubbed gingerly against her smooth skin and his finger twirled a lock of her hair thoughtfully. Cooing gently in her ear, he said how much he'd missed her during the week and how good it felt to be naked next to her. When her eyes caught his, she noticed they were filled with warmth and comfort. _

_"Lemme hold you," he whispered to her. "Come here." _

_His arms wrapped around her seemingly miniscule frame as he nuzzled her neck. _

_"This is nice," he said, kissing the area where her throat met her shoulder. _

_Instead of settling into his arms, which he normally did and she usually gave into, she gave a small pant; his mouth against her skin felt sublime. Knowing he struck on erogenous area, he retreated and whispered into her ear. _

_"Sorry." And then he kissed the tip of her ear. _

_She arched into him and hoarsely said, "Kiss me again." _

_Aiming a furrow at her, he leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips, smiling as he moved his head away from hers. _

_"That what you wanted?" he asked, kidding. _

_As he was about to snuggle back into her, she splayed her fingers under his hair and presented a more passionate kiss – one that included a tiny moan from her lips. _

_When she sensed his surprise, she commented, "No, I wanted that." _

_Narrowing his eyes, further, he stared at her and then joked, "Well, you certainly stole it." _

'Do you find me unattractive?'

_Watching his reaction and hearing his thoughts, she heard him wonder,_ 'That's unlike her.' _And then in a hushed voice he said, "I think you're beautiful, T'Pol." _

'Prove it.'

_His eyes widened and she could tell he wasn't certain he'd heard her correctly; so she nibbled on his neck and chest, and then spoke the words aloud – clearly and slowly. _

_"Prove that you find me beautiful." _

_His breath escaped his mouth in short pants and brushed against her lips. He asked darkly, "What do you want me to do?" _

_Flattening her hand against his chest, it wound down past his stomach and his eyes closed in delight. Barely scraping her teeth against his neck and swirling her tongue against his throat, she spoke as he writhed underneath her. _

_"I want you to make love to me." _

_She could tell hearing those words turned him on immensely and he immediately responded to her request by bringing her mouths to his. _

_With contentment, she realized she didn't have to look into his mind to notice how _eager_ he was; it was already evident. Which is why she was astonished to hear one thought echo through his brain. _

'Again?_' _

_"That was this morning," she said, hoping to tease him. She knew he enjoyed it and she wasn't disappointed. _

_"I thought you didn't like to in the afternoon. You said it was an 'unproductive way to spend one's time and energy,'" he said. Their mouths met with a little more force and excitement. _

_"This afternoon is different," she whispered. _

_Her mouth devoured his and she felt him grow antsy as if connecting with her body was his mission. And yet, she was determined to make him wait. _

_Fondling and placing his mouth on all the spots she liked, he asked, "How different?" _

_She sank her teeth into his neck and whispered, "Very." _

_And her lips found his clavicle, an area that he'd claimed in the past 'made him crazy', and suckled it until she left a bruise, despite his mild protestations. When her teeth left his skin, his fingers reached under her hair and dragged her dominantly to his mouth and attacked it with his lips. _

_It made her almost smile, and his mind questioned that emotion. Before he could reflect further, and detract from the moment, she rolled onto him – straddling his stomach -- and raked her teeth across his chest. His hips raised and he groaned her name. _

_"T'Pol," he said, as his hands reached out to caress her. _

_But, instead of taking their hold, the Vulcan intercepted and forced them above his head and then consumed the base of his neck; another purple mark formed under her lips. Enticed beyond his limit, he whispered a curse … one that made her stare down at his face and watch as he struggled for freedom. _

'You have to work for it,' she encouraged.

_Her teeth nipped at his ears, chin, lips, throat, chest and shoulders – teasing him that she controlled the situation. As her jaw unhinged itself from his shoulder and a contusion worked to the surface, he gasped. _

_With a fury of movement, he broke free and tossed her back onto the bed. Losing her breath for a moment, she found herself under him, pinned. Panting for air, she could feel an apology work up to his lips, but before he could speak it, she attacked his lips. It thrilled her. _

_Before either knew it, they were biting each other seductively and viciously – harder than lovers often do but with the precision that animals in heat might. Their mind link was aggressive and lacked the usual grace of other joinings and beauty that intertwined their minds. This link was ravenous and echoed their physical movements of clutching and clawing at each other; it was raw, base … and exquisite. Unsure who was the hunter and the prey, his mind traced hers occasionally – galloping after her speedy brain and then tackling it. And then hers would turn and give him chase. Whispering curses as his limbs fought hers, his body teased hers several times pushing her past the brink. Finally, she heard herself begging … begging … him to give into release, pleading with him to do so. Gripping his hips, she could feel he didn't want to relent and then another wave passed over her and her mind slipped away into a place without thought and reason. She wondered if she was shrieking his name … whatever she was saying – Vulcan or English – it didn't seem to matter. The amplification didn't matter … especially since his voice groaned loudly through the silence. _

_When the frenzy was over, she found herself struggling for breath -- shaking. Possessively, his eyes stayed fixated on her, watching her with pride and satisfaction like a beast that has stalked and killed its prey. His stare burned her skin and flushed her cheeks. Confusion crossed her features and his demeanor suddenly changed to one of tenderness and care. _

_"You all right?" he asked, wiping her damp hair from her face. His touch, unlike moments earlier, was cool and refreshing. _

_With embarrassment she thought about their actions, especially her own and averted her eyes. _

_"Yes," she whispered. _

_Bringing her to his damp chest and tucking her head under his chin, he spoke into her hair. "I love you." _

_Giving a mere fraction of a frown, she nuzzled into him and then felt him kiss the top of her head. _

'T'Pol, Vulcans may not make love that way, but humans do sometimes.' He paused, trying to catch her eyes. 'I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to.'

'You didn't frighten me,' she clarified.

_Still heaving his chest a little from the aerobic exercise, he said, "You were right about one thing: today was very different." _

_She could see a smile spread from his eyes into his cheekbones. Rather than tease him back or permit her eyes to smile back at him, she settled against his chest, listening to the thumping of his heart. Perhaps she'd been among humans too long; she'd fantasized about this before. _

_As Jonathan perked up and asked, "Really?" she decided to push her thoughts deeper into her mind and out of his reach. _

_"Yes," she claimed. "I've thought about it from time to time when you come back from the gym." A tinge of desire traveled along her spine again and as soon as she shirked it away, she noticed his lips seductively nibbled on her ear. _

_"I've fantasized about it, too," he whispered. "I've imagined a lot of things." _

Throwing interference between their minds, she thought, 'I have too – as illogical as that is.' Sinking into him, she wondered what his were … _desperately _wanted to know what his were.

_But, afraid his words would prompt her to want him again, she let them go unchallenged. For now it darkly satisfied her that their encounters may be more exciting, leaving her momentarily breathless. _

_"Want me to tell you?" he asked as she caught her breath, her right earlobe between his teeth. _

_It took all of her control to remark calmly, "Another time, perhaps." _

_And then suddenly the moment was gone between them. He lay down and watched over her visage for just a moment, producing a lop-sided smile and she stood up – hoping to get ready for the day. Before she could wander into the shower or bathroom, he reached for her hand. _

_"You sure you're okay? I mean … I _feel_ like you're concerned." With a small sigh he said, "I mean … I think I got carried away. I didn't hurt you, did I?" She noticed his eyes fixed themselves on a bruise at her hipbone. _

_"No," she whispered. What she didn't want him to know was the concern she had was how she wanted to relive it. No, she wanted more; there were other things she wanted to do to him. _

_"I have to get ready," she explained. _

_Nodding, he kissed her fingertips. _

An instant – a flash of something crawled across her mind as if it'd been there before. As she identified it, it worked down her neck, into her stomach and made her ache. He had that effect on her.

Sensing Archer aware of her thoughts, she noticed he was staring on, perplexed. Without responding, her eyebrow twitched and she left her meditative pose and spoke with a slight quiver in her voice.

"We should get some sleep. The journey to T'Lal takes a few hours."

Before he could question her further, she gathered her cloak and walked out to sleep in her own room.

_'I don't trust myself.' _

As she left, Archer reflected on those words. The strangest part was – he had trouble identifying whether those thoughts were or weren't his. They momentarily seemed like hers, but he felt them intensely. With the realization, he wondered.

_'Why?' _

Getting up to leave his room and barge into hers, he felt the trepidation of her own mind. Was she afraid to be with him? Again, he chided himself for the passion he thrust upon her earlier that day, but she seemed to want it. Or, maybe that was his mind saying what he wanted.

As his hand reached around the doorknob, her wish for privacy reaffirmed itself – ringing through his ears.

"All right," he said to no one in particular. It was probably just as well, if she'd changed into her nightclothes – the blue silky pajamas – and lay next to him, it would undoubtedly be his undoing. He'd glide his tongue and mouth up her torso and relish freeing every buttonhole. As quickly as the idea whisked into his mind, it zipped out.

Clearing his throat, he decided the best thing was just get some shuteye. Feeling pent up, knowing he had some mysterious tests to take … it was just a little over the top. A good night's sleep was what he needed. Question was – would he get any sleep?


	6. Part 6

**Two Things Are Certain - Part 6**

S_weet and mysterious spices … like nutmeg, myrrh and ginger … wafted through the room and clung to her. T'Pol's hair was wet, as was her skin, glistening from the glow of her flame pot that reflected light against every curve of her body. Flushed with excitement, her cheeks, lips and throat had deepened to a forest green. Her pupils had expanded beyond the limits – no trace of hazel or brown remained. And with dark, foreboding and wanton eyes, she held his gaze with a stare._

_They were in bed together, draped in red silks that gave off a metallic sheen, and they were naked._

_A bead of sweat trickled down her abdomen into her navel and his lips eagerly nibbled at it to cull the water and salt out. As his tongue slid into the tiny hole, he felt her shiver beneath him._

_"Katelau k'tusha," she whispered. _

_Without understanding all of the words, he knew the intent; it caused his body to shiver and his mind to buzz and hum. Like a man listening to a siren's song, he fell into the lull of her voice. _

_"Yes," he said, as if obeying a command. _

_"Nem-tor wani'i…," she mouthed. And before she could finish speaking, his lips captured hers. Her mouth tasted like honey and his tongue scooped against hers to collect as much of the flavor as he could. _

_Submissively, she opened her mouth and legs to him … and he smiled with satisfaction. The grin broadened as he realized she was his – her skin, her hair, the points of her ears, the rapid flutter of her heart – she _belonged_ to him. _

_It would be his job to protect her and fight for her. He would kill men who came between them … even those who looked at her … with his bare hands if he had to. _

_"You're mine," he said, aggressively. _

_"Yes," she whispered. _

As his eyes cracked open, he gasped at the heat and the intensity of the vision. This was the third dream he'd had that night … the third one that involved being in bed with T'Pol; his mind seemed fixated on the idea and yet every time he felt himself get closer to his goal, the vision ended. And he was left sweating and huffing into darkness, aroused and unable to get back to sleep easily. His legs shifted, rustling against the sheets and his hand rubbed over his eyes.

Swallowing deeply, he could vividly remember everything -- her smell so fragrant and enticing it made his heart pound in his chest, her body gleaming with sweat and squirming under him, her taste ….

It took every speck of willpower he had to keep from running out of his room and barging into hers. Licking his lips he tried to calm his mind. She was probably asleep and didn't want some sex-crazed maniac to wake her up, even if he did want her … and the feeling of her lips against his, her legs wrapped around his waist and ….

Having already tossed his covers off much earlier in the night, he stripped out of his clothes in an effort to cool down. As he stared into the darkness at the ceiling, folding his hands behind his head, he debated whether he should open the windows further to let the stagnant breeze float in. Unfortunately there was no wind – just heat. Frowning, he wiped his hand against his slick forehead, already perspiring – like the rest of him -- heavily.

His skin was ablaze nothing would extinguish it.

Then he envisioned T'Pol's mouth puckered over him, releasing long bursts of cool air over his chest and stomach; goose bumps ran up and down his arms just imagining it – her lips pursed together ... flushed to a dark coppery green and begging to be kissed. Eying the door, he thought about leaving his room to see her … to touch her.

That was it. This had gone on long enough … too long. It was time to call his physician.

Reluctantly he pulled out his communicator and looked at it for several minutes before deciding to open it.

Drawing a deep breath, he spoke with hushed tones (for a reason he didn't know, but felt was necessary) into the metal box, "Archer to Dr. Phlox."

The Denobulan who was infamous for only sleeping about one week a year answered with the same jubilant voice he always did.

"Ah! Captain Archer!"

He almost smiled at the reception, but felt like the circumstances prohibited him from being exuberant back.

"Doc, I think I need some medical advice," he said, trying to get to the heart of the matter … mostly because he'd already worked up the nerve and beating around the bush would make him more nervous.

"I'd be happy to assist, Captain."

He took another deep breath and then said quickly and quietly said, "I think I have a problem."

"Oh? What seems to be the issue?"

"I've been feeling … anxious … lately."

"Anxious?"

"Yeah – tense."

Confusion hung in the physician's voice. "Well, you _are_ in a new place …."

Refraining from pacing, Archer said, "No … I mean _another _kind of anxious …."

"_Sexually _anxious?" asked Phlox, his voice taking a peculiar delight in the information.

The captain had never talked about his relationship with T'Pol openly or privately. As far as he was concerned, the only person who knew about his relationship was Trip, and because of the circumstances the engineer was unlikely to talk about it … not that he was ordered, asked, or counseled to. Archer guessed the doctor's fascination had more to do with the dream he had years ago rather than any new information. That and the physician seemed to have a strange fixation on human mating practices and sexuality.

As Jonathan opened his mouth to answer, Phlox's voice seemed to brighten. "Feeling worked up easily and for no reason?"

Suspiciously, Archer eyed the communicator. "Yes."

"Ppppth! Don't worry, Captain."

Archer's eyes narrowed.

"The Tri-ox compound is the culprit." With silence ringing through the connection the Denobulan explained, "To compensate for the lack of oxygen and the high gravity, your heart is pumping more blood. That means there's more blood to flow through out your body – your whole body. _All_ of your systems are benefiting from that increased blood flow, including for example your pituitary gland."

Archer was silent again.

"The pituitary is responsible for sexual responses … and since your body is pumping more blood to every … _every_ … major organ …."

Archer winced and before he could interrupt, the Denobulan described more.

"What I'm trying to say, Captain, is that with this additional blood flow your pituitary is releasing sexual desires and your pen—"

"I understand," Archer said, cutting the doctor off, who sounded just a little too gleeful to describe the information.

"So, it's all perfectly normal." As if to explain himself, the doctor said, "I was certain I went over the side effects with you."

"No," corrected Archer. "No, I would've remembered that one."

"I'm positive I mentioned the increased blood flow. Perhaps I didn't cover the effect to your pituitary gland and pen --"

The captain frowned and spoke quickly, "Can I take anything to make me less …."

"Sexually aggressive?" asked Phlox, getting to the meat of things.

The captain winced again. "Yes," he quietly agreed.

"You can take a mild sedative. It should ease the tension. Just be careful of the dosage."

The captain hung on the balls of his feet waiting for the drawbacks.

"Okay?" he said, without hearing any side effects.

"I'll transport it down to you at once as long as you send your coordinates."

Archer, already typing in the data, managed to transmit it over almost immediately after the Denobulan had requested it. Phlox's voice cheered and he said quietly, "I'll send it to you as quickly as possible. It sounds like you need it."

Furrowing his brow, he glared at the communicator. "How …?"

"I know it's 0250 hours on Vulcan. Although I know you … keep late hours, I suspected it was … something else."

Archer nodded and said, "Having a mild sedative tonight would help."

"Let me know if you need anything else," the doctor said, with whimsy.

"Thanks, Doc."

Within a few minutes the drugs he'd requested were beamed down and like a junkie he sprinted to them, tore open the packing, stuffed the ingredients into a hypospray and shot it into his neck. Instantly he felt his mind numb like a tranquilized animal and his body begin to cool. Putting the paraphernalia and medication away, he climbed over to his bed, stuffed himself under the covers and shut his eyes. Right away he fell into a blissful, thoughtless sleep.

* * *

When he woke up again, T'Pol was stroking his hair aimlessly. As he focused on her eyes and mind, he suddenly felt the Vulcan temperature – hot. It made him wonder why he bothered to throw himself back under the covers.

"You were asleep for a long time," she said. "Your mind was … quiet."

Groggily he perched on his elbows and glanced around the room.

"What time …?"

"0900 hours," she explained. Quickly, she shot his neck with the Tri-ox compound and watched his sleepy eyes begin to gather focus.

Lying back down and running a hand through his sweaty hair, he took a deep breath. Cloudy, his mind attempted to defog as T'Pol ran through the day, covering their activities down to the minute: shower, eat at a dining establishment in downtown Shi'Kar and make the long journey to T'Lal. Archer felt like an anal host back on Earth – where he'd worked out schedules on his PADD and made reservations in advance, but listening to T'Pol's precise itinerary shoved all doubt in his mind about who was the more anal of the two. Her calculations were precise, including hypothesizing breakfast would be over at 10:32 because she'd estimated that Archer would take 20 minutes to complete his meal and she would take 32 minutes. It made him give her a lopsided smile, sit up, snuggle the covers around his waist and muse to himself what would happen if breakfast ended at 10:33.

Instead of receiving the cold shoulder, as he'd expected, she tentatively placed her hand to his cheek. "You're naked."

"It was hot last night," he said, remembering snippets of his dream. A wave of heat flowed over his skin and his heart stuttered. _'The Tri-ox compound,' he thought._

"The Tri-ox compound?"

Guiltily, Archer's eyes swung toward his feet. "I had … trouble sleeping last night. I was …."

"Hungry?" she asked, her lips suddenly stalking his.

Rubbing his nose against hers, he whispered, "You could feel it?"

Panting a little, she said, "Yes. Your dreams …."

Finally giving into her lips, he kissed her as his fingers found hers and danced along them lightly. A tingling sensation ran up his arm and along his spine as he heard her mind confirm how exquisite it felt.

His mouth hovered over her right ear, nibbling on it, as he whispered, "Dr. Phlox indicated it was a side effect of the Tri-ox."

Moving slightly out of his grasp and staring in wide-eyed wonder, her fingers left his. "These are _your _symptoms," she stated as if realizing it for the first time.

"I know you've been uncomfortable," he said, thinking about her reaction to their impassioned lovemaking and the way she'd bolted out of his room last night as he looked at her as if he might want to try that again.

Relief crossed her features as a sigh worked itself from her lips. "Our mind link has projected your thoughts … and amplified them. I was concerned these thoughts were mine."

His index finger and middle fingers wandered over her throat and he watched them caress the veins there. "Maybe you should give me the sedative."

As she stood, her mind ran over the details. Yesterday and last night, she had wondered whether she'd entered or was about to enter Pon Farr – the time of mating. It would be inconvenient and … out of cycle; she wasn't scheduled for that ordeal for another six months. Six months. It was well known to Vulcan females that each woman encountered the throws of her first Pon Farr, unless her mate spawned the blood fever before, at age 67.

Vulcan biologists had reasoned that as a last ditch effort to procreate, nature made female bodies eventually give in and yearn to be impregnated, or at least long for the act of impregnation, near middle age. Although Vulcan females could have children into their 80s or 90s, it was more strenuous on their bodies. Thus the cycle occurred near 70 – at the peak of physical health.

It wasn't that T'Pol didn't like sex (she enjoyed it a great deal with her current partner), it was the pent up drive to do nothing but mate for hours and days at a time, and violently, as well as the complete loss of emotional control that she found frightening … or at least until yesterday. Or … was it before?

That's what scared her most; she enjoyed it. Giving into desire and other emotions so utterly _felt_ amazing, especially the frenzied and ferocious embrace yesterday. The way he'd passionately thrown her to the bed after wrenching out of her hold was thrilling.

With a raised brow, she considered she, as well as other Vulcan women, knew precious little about Pon Farr. She'd heard when Vulcan women entered it without a mate, it sparked unbonded men around to illogically recognize the scent, like an animal catching the odor of another in heat. This scent alone could drive them into the mating frenzy. It was why Vulcan women tried to bond before that age and why Vulcan society highly encouraged it.

Pausing next to the hypospray and getting further directions on the sedative, she loaded the chamber.

Hearing it was _his _symptoms – his mind reflecting wanton thoughts into hers – made her relax. As if to confirm the diagnosis, she reflected that his thoughts had invaded hers ever since yesterday morning and she was still growing accustomed to them and how to respond to them. It was _logical _that these were his thoughts … the thoughts of a human; the species was typically more voracious. Not only that, but she still felt logical, there were only moments when around him when she didn't … when the urge to mate took hold.

'Obviously, it's not Pon Farr,' she assured herself.

Sauntering back to the bed, she watched as his eyes darkened – his pupils expanding to almost the edges of his irises. It made her want to climb into his bed and caress him … and it also made her want to provide the sedative as quickly as possible. As the shot hissed against his neck, she felt him his libido wane and noticed his mind chatter quieted as if dampened or hindered.

Sighing, he rolled his head around his neck and smiled. "Thanks."

"Of course."

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Sorry."

Stroking his cheek, her eyes seemed to smile. "Don't worry."

His eyes twinkled back at her. With a raised brow she said, "You're tired."

"I didn't get a lot of sleep last night," he said. "But, I had plenty of rest yesterday. I'll be okay."

"You wish to shower?" she asked.

Smirking, he wondered if it'd bother her to see him walk around naked.

"I've seen you nude many times before."

Deciding that was her way of saying it wouldn't bother her, he slipped out of bed and stretched, slightly amused at the way she was inspecting him.

"It's only logical to appreciate what's aesthetically pleasing."

Giving her a peck on the cheek and a wink to reward her statement, he got ready for the day.

* * *

T'Pol was snuggled behind the helm of the brightly colored and small shuttle, almost happy to be the driver. In almost all her expeditions with Jonathan, he always flew. It wasn't that he didn't trust her or that he was over-controlling and needed to pilot, he liked to and thought it was the chivalrous thing to do. But, Archer didn't know Vulcan and certainly didn't know where her house was located. T'Lal wasn't a major city or town.

Archer sat in the passenger seat, smiling at the adventure awaiting him. Unlike when he was touring T'Pol around, by giving a brief history of the places they were about to visit and hoping to depart some interesting facts, she was mostly quiet, as was her mind.

Thirty minutes into their trip, he asked for a little history. T'Pol, with an arched eyebrow, told one of her favorite stories (one which was based on myth and legend more than fact): the story of T'Lal and T'Pana.

_In the early days, before Surak's message had spread, the father of Vulcan logic crossed the deserts to meet the leader of the Th'nar tribes. He'd heard that the leader of the people, Kol, was a decent and fair-minded man or at least more so than his counterparts from the other seventeen regions. _

_When Surak arrived, as predicted, Kol greeted him warmly. Surak vowed to work as a teacher for the children of the tribe in payment for his greeting – something that sparked an immediate friendship between the two. _

_Before long, Surak was a regularly invited guest at the table of Kol where the two discussed the dismissal of all emotion. One night in particular, a canvas tent filled with relatives and friends who ate on a fine rug that kept the sand from their cloaks and robes. Red silks, fiery like the suns beginning their slumber, decorated the intimate small dining area. Candles shone and sparkled, making the atmosphere cozy as the illumination cast wondrous shadows on the canvas flaps. And laughter could be heard throughout, bellowing … mostly from Kol. _

_As Surak straightened his tunic, he reasserted as he did almost every night, "Vulcans _can _achieve peace." _

_Kol banged his fist on the table, insisting it couldn't be done. "Emotions are impossible to control," the tribesman argued. _

_"Not impossible. Difficult, yes. But we would benefit if we were no longer slaves to our own emotions. We should be the masters. Think of what Vulcans could accomplish if we were no longer at war." _

_"Impossible. Passion is what makes us Vulcans – it burns within us," Kol reasoned smiling. _

_Surak rose his eyebrow almost warily at that statement. With a bit of humor, but without smiling, he said, "Vulcans are many things. But, now … now is the time to define ourselves or else our race will vanish into extinction." _

_"You forget these passions … and our women … will help make generations to come. How can we take our wives to bed without this?" _

_Surak, with the same mild humor reported, "There is always the Pon Farr. We would mate every seven years regardless." _

_The tribesman gave a hearty laugh. After topping off the philosopher's wine, he clapped him on the back. "I can tell you're not married." _

_A smile lit in Surak's eyes as he raised a fork to his mouth, letting the comment go unchallenged. _

_"But you should be, Philosopher. And to show you my thanks and to burn your fires, I want you to marry one of my daughters." _

_It was well-known these two unmarried women were nearing the age of Pon Farr, in fact T'Pana was thought to have less than a year. At least that was the town gossip, though Surak didn't pay much attention to it. He also knew that Kol wanted to welcome him into his tribe as his son … into the family. Although he found the thought of offering up children unsettling, it was common to reward friendship with marriage. _

_Surak knew both women, having lived in the village for almost one year, but allowed his eyes to trace over them both. Logic would dictate the correct action. _

_"T'Pana is wise and will breed many fine children. T'Lal is beautiful and her children will be fair," said their father, signaling both women to stand. T'Lal rose with confidence, staring her suitor in the eyes. _

_Surak had to admit she was exquisite. Her skin was a light green – fair, as if untouched by the sun. Sleek, but not overly so, her frame stood confidently dressed in the richest silks of amber, contrasted by her dark green eyes. Proudly, with her shoulders back and squared, she twirled a few black strands between her long, slender fingers. With a smile, she lit up the tent, radiating brilliance. Indeed, glancing over her features, he had to admit she would make a handsome wife. _

_With humiliation T'Pana stood and eyed the ground. Her long raven braids covered tanned skin, as if she'd worked under the sun all her life. Her stature was tall like a warrior, and like her father she had broad shoulders and a sturdy build. The golden fabric that covered her was smudged with sand and tattered as if uncared for. She was also at least three years older than he. _

_Having had enough, T'Pana spoke up. "Father, would you give us so willingly to a man who they say has no heart?" _

_Raising an eyebrow, Surak mused this point. T'Pana was one of the harder workers in the village. She never accepted her birthright – to allow others to do her work for her – seeking comfort in the land. Ever practical, the woman didn't buy fineries or give into frivolous things; dirt was almost always under her fingernails and her hair was brushed as if in haste. T'Lal enjoyed being in the upper echelon. Her hair was always combed, oiled and knotted in the latest fashions, and her robes were bought from the most expensive markets. Men clamored over her and several suitors were already making their interest known. It was ponderous that Kol would deny these men and give her to him. _

_"I have a heart," said Surak. "It beats with the same fire as yours. However, I can tame it and my emotions." _

_Kol laughed. _

_Surak shook his head. "Your offer is generous, but I can't accept it." Out of the corner of his eye, he noted T'Lal's confusion and T'Pana's relief. _

_Frowning, Kol insisted. "If you don't choose, I'll choose for you!" _

_Surak, noting that he'd offended his friend, turned warm without smiling. "Because you are my friend, I know you will choose wisely for me." _

_Honored, Kol stared at his daughters for a few minutes and then said, "T'Pana." _

_Horror struck her face and the young philosopher shot her an apologetic look. _

_"She is wise and may give you the fire you need to convince the other leaders of 'logic.'" _

_"Very well," he said. Walking over with the grace he always showed, he offered her two fingers. "You father thinks we will be well-matched." _

_With reluctance, she placed them against his fingers and frowned. _

_Smiling the leader lifted his cup and drank to the union as dancers filled the room. And with that acknowledgement – which was all that was needed at that time – the two were married. _

_The concept of sleeping together the night of the marriage was foreign to Vulcans, but it was not uncommon to visit after the ceremony. Surak was troubled that T'Pana, his wife, didn't care much for him and hoped to set things right with her. So, that night, he stopped by her room, knocking gently on the door. The woman brushed her matted hair and rebraided it, ignoring the intruder. Quietly he opened the door as T'Pana frowned, glaring at his visage in the mirror. Her face and hair were washed, free from dirt and grime and the robes she had on shone like her eyes – golden brown. Silently he thought she was just as beautiful as her sister, but sparkled with inner beauty as well as outer … and seemed more comfortable concealing her aesthetics in the soil of the desert. _

_"I did not give you permission to enter," she said. _

_Surak held out his hand to ease her. "I know your father wed us against your wishes." _

_Annoyed, she crossed her arms, staring at him in the mirror of her dressing table. _

_"Your father is a good and kind man who I want to honor. But, in doing so, I do not wish to dishonor you. I release you from any vows you took for me." _

_About to withdraw he heard her voice stumble. "Why?" _

_"I thought I had explained it sufficiently." _

_"I know you wanted T'Lal," she said. _

_"You know me well enough to know I do not … _want_." _

_"You don't think much of a woman who enjoys the desert." _

_"Untrue. Work keeps the mind nimble. And I find intelligence admirable." _

_Drawing his robes around him, he left her to her thoughts. _

_Each day that passed, T'Pana had taken the trouble to go out of her way to talk with Surak, mostly to find out why he had refused her without renouncing his marriage, and within a few weeks she had to admit they had struck up a friendship. Although he didn't smile, he had a wry sense of humor and though he claimed to have no passion, he spoke with it as he talked of peace and the future of Vulcans. After only three months of visiting him for tea every day, she had to admit to herself that she'd fallen in love with him – the man with no heart. _

_He was humble, even though is lineage was something to be proud of, kind and giving. Unlike she'd suspected, he asked for nothing from her father or from anyone, yet shared his knowledge with anyone who asked, freely and with sincerity. His hair was as black as a starless, moonless night and his eyes were just as dark – holding a fire … an intensity … within. _

_One night, she decided to pass by his room and as her feet planted themselves on his doorstep, she rapped on the door. When he didn't answer the door, and she realized no one was home, she let herself in. She wasn't sure whether it was the fires of Pon Farr or simply lust, but something told her to disrobe and lie in his bed under the covers – as if she would be sleeping with him. Only just snuggling in the warmth, rolling in his scent, she was surprised to hear his footsteps outside. _

_"T'Pana?" he asked, walking through the portal and staring at what lay in his bed. _

_Shivering, her mouth opened, hoping to explain the invasion of his privacy, something she knew that was important to him. _

_Surak's nose twitched in the air and he said in a whisper, "Pon Farr." _

_With a troubled brow, she frowned. "I know you do not want me." _

_He remained quiet, weighing in his mind the appropriate response. _

_"You do not … _want."

_His eyebrow shot up. _

_"I think about you, Surak," she whispered into the night air. _

_It was his duty as her mate and husband to assist her through this time. And though they were married, they had not bonded; her thoughts didn't roam in his mind and nag his attention, but he could smell her burning and it began to stir him as well. _

_Crouching down to sit on the bed, he drew a deep breath. "It is the mating fever."_

T'Pol stopped telling the story to Archer, who was already riveted and immediately began to protest. Quieting him, she reached out two fingers, which he took at once with his own, and worked in her mind what version to tell him.

The father of Vulcan logic was above all things – logical. The story was that night they bonded, most rationally, so that he could save her life. It also started the tradition that parents decide whom their children should marry; it was thought to honor the choices of elders – people who many times knew better than their children.

But, even as a youngster, T'Pol imagined the two admitted their love to each other and fell helplessly into each other's arms. Other Vulcans would've dismissed those thoughts as romantic and silly notions, but she wasn't with them, so she continued the story, indicating that this part was mostly myth, but was her belief.

Crouching down to sit on the bed, he drew a deep breath. "It is the mating fever."

_To confirm his suspicions, he traced his finger along her sweat-covered neck. Her scent was intoxicating and he knew at once his touch had caused her to smolder with more desire. _

_"It is not just the mating fever, Surak. I wanted you even before." _

_The stoic Vulcan watched her as she ran her fingers up his arm and trembled at the feeling. Although logical, how he felt about her was unscientific. With something akin to pride, he'd noted dirt and grime were hardly ever found on her and yet, she had not stopped her walks in the desert or her work. Her hair was shiny and straight and her robes reflected the woman she was on the inside. Months ago, when they had married, he was intrigued by her outspokenness and then when he had visited her room, surprised by her beauty. Since then, he found perhaps what Kol was driving at, the passion of the heart was difficult to tame. _

_"I was mistaken. I have _want_ now," he said. With reluctance, he whispered, "I felt _want_ for you the night of our wedding." _

_Weeks later at dinner, Kol remarked on how happy his daughter, T'Pana, seemed (it was before the days where she too chose non-emotion) and explained why he chose her for Surak. The philosopher clasped his hands behind his back, interested in the logic his friend used. _

_"T'Pana would be content to be a philosopher's wife. She's quick, even if she's stubborn, but has a will that's her own. When I was sick, she was always at my side. She is special, and I knew if anyone could find that out, it'd be you." _

_Surak wanted to smile, but resisted the urge. Instead, he bowed his head. "I'm grateful. She is more than a wife to me; she is my companion." _

_Kol grinned. "I also knew that T'Lal would be jealous of the attention and would finally settle down." _

_Surak gave a wary brow as his friend continued. "T'Lal is set to marry the son of the V'nok Tribe. Perhaps you will spread your words of peace there one day." _

"T'Lal is an idiom for … a choice that at one point looked promising, but on further reflection was not," T'Pol said, looking straight ahead.

Archer settled against the chair. "I thought you said your hometown was beautiful and plush for Vulcan."

"Yes," she said. "Did you understand nothing of the story?"

Teasing, he said, "I understand that Vulcans are a lot more romantic than I give them credit for, and they have beautiful women."

She knotted her brow as he continued, "On the inside and out."

"Indeed."

Her mouth twitched as he looked out of his window at the tiny lake that lay directly below. It was apparently why so much grew in T'Lal.

"What happened to T'Lal – T'Pana's sister?" he asked.

"She eventually followed the way of Surak and was murdered, stabbed 220 times, by her husband who claimed she disobeyed his orders." Wanting to frown more, she said, "Many of Surak's followers gave their lives for their beliefs. The tribesmen thought 'logic' was dangerous."

When T'Pol set the shuttle down, they exited in front of a very meager adobe-like structure that reminded Archer of buildings in New Mexico. She stood in front of it as his eyes scanned the area, looking at the large gong in front of her house, the relatively small garden in the front and then went to the back of the shuttle to grab the bags. Watching her, he felt in his mind she was nervous about seeing her old house again. The last time she was there was for her mother's burial – when her body entered a mausoleum with other dead relatives. The memory of her mother's untimely death was unhappy; it was why T'Pol accepted the position at VHC on Earth in the first place. She needed to escape.

Wanting to put his arm around her and comfort her, but not wanting to bother her, he gently said, "Do you want to go inside?"

Nodding, she walked ahead of him and opened the stone door (Vulcans never locked their homes) and felt her sandals pad against the terracotta-looking flooring. Light shined in from all directions – Vulcan appreciated their suns – and reflected against the sand-colored walls and ceiling. Modest furnishings surrounded the home, which reminded Archer of Japan – no couches or chairs only metallic-colored throw pillows littered the ground and a table that was only two feet high (requiring everyone to eat sitting on the floor). Archer put his luggage down and tried to take in every detail: the sculptures of Surak and other Vulcan philosophers, the paintings -- all abstract geometric patters, and the tapestries and the silks draped along passageways.

"Would you like a tour?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, smiling.

It was a three-bedroom home and each room was small … only big enough for a bed, a dresser and a closet. The tones in the house were all desert colors -- rusts, reds and golds; blue didn't seem to be in the Vulcan color palette. All the beds were low to the ground, as if the people wouldn't have actually minded sleeping on the floor and their mattresses seemed to lean toward firm rather than comfortable. The only luxury the beds were afforded were dozes of pillows decorating each one. All in all, though spartan, her abode was lovely.

After she finished the tour, she remarked calmly, "If guests arrive, I don't want them to misunderstand our relationship. I'd like you to sleep in a guest room." He knew which one that was – it was the next to largest one that shimmered in crimson.

Actually, having him sleep in her room wouldn't be a misunderstanding, but to a certain extent he could sympathize.

"That's okay," he said, not really understanding, but trying to be flexible.

Looking at the clock, it was already getting late. After she meditated and they snacked on what her father's sister's daughter, Rama, had placed in the refrigeration unit, the two were ready to call it a night. Awkwardly, Archer shuffled off to his room after giving T'Pol the briefest of finger kisses. Touching fingertips made his skin tingle, it always did, but the thought of pushing her onto the pillows scattered on the floor sounded appealing.

Quietly he affirmed he should probably take a sedative.

* * *

Surprisingly refreshed, Archer woke up the next morning and decided to cook a little breakfast by following the instructions located in his PADD for one of T'Pol's favorite dishes (after checking to ensure all the ingredients were there). Luckily, he also brought coffee grounds and devised a method to have fresh, hot coffee every morning. Stretching his legs out on the living room floor, he sipped his mug and called up the local newspaper on his PADD, reading the translated version, as T'Pol strolled up wearing a green flowing nightgown.

"Hey," Archer said cheerily.

"I didn't realize it was so late," she whispered. Although she looked gorgeous, her eyes were surrounded by puffy copper circles … liked she'd missed out on some sleep.

"Didn't sleep well?"

"No," she replied, sitting next to him.

His hand caressed her hair as he looked on with concern. "Anything wrong?"

For a moment, he felt the heat of Vulcan … giant suns beating down on him and attempting to break his will. Like a feline, she moved stealthily over planting her knees next to his – straddling his lap – and faced him. Suddenly he realized it wasn't like two suns searing his flesh, it was like two suns going supernova were shoved down his throat and scorching the pit of his stomach.

"I should probably take a sedative," he whispered, already revealing his body really enjoyed this.

"Don't," she whispered back. And then without warning, her lips nabbed his. As if the two hadn't kissed in weeks, they furiously connected mouths, moaned into each other's throat and only broke apart to pant with desire. Within minutes, her fingers had worked to splay open his now unbuttoned shirt and his hands roamed over her body. Taking initiative, T'Pol's teeth gently tugged at the flesh of his chest.

"Oh, God," he whispered, closing his eyes. He wanted to rip her nightgown off, and for an instant he thought in his mind he heard her encouragement.

Running her hands along the insides of his thighs, he felt his heart race. Moving his mouth to the point of her ear, he said in a hushed voice, "Let's take this into my room."

Staring into his eyes, she shook her head. "Tusha kropaya."

He got the feeling she knew this was a fantasy of his and wanted to stay … and that thought wildly excited him as well as hearing her speak in Vulcan.

Starting to grab the material of her gown to hike it up further, he felt her hips beginning to rock against him – teasing him. Helplessly, he groaned against mouth. As his hands reached for the neckline of her gown to rip it open, a voice spoke up.

"T'Pol?"

A woman about 57 Vulcan years old with large brown eyes and slightly wavy black hair stared down at the two.

T'Pol stood quickly, uneasily brushing a lock of hair and said in a nearly surprised voice, "Rama."

The slender young woman's eyes turned to T'Pol, and Archer took the distraction as an opportunity to button his shirt.

"I didn't expect you in until later today," said the younger Vulcan. With a mild eyebrow, she watched over Archer as he hurriedly fussed over his buttons.

"We came early," replied T'Pol.

"So, I see," said Rama.

T'Pol aware that her cousin was already eying the alien in the living room finally looked over her shoulder, relieved he'd buttoned his shirt and that the only thing that indicated there was something going on was his hair which was ruffled.

"Rama this is Jonathan Archer," she said.

Standing up, glad his shirttail was out and dipped to his thigh, he gave the Vulcan greeting.

"You are human," she said matter-of-factly. It's why she'd chosen to use English while communicating.

"Yes," he replied.

Her eyes passed over to T'Pol again. "A human?"

Having known the woman so long, T'Pol already knew exactly what Rama was driving at – she was involved with a human.

"Yes," T'Pol answered.

"Archer tene isachya." (Archer has a lot of hair.)

T'Pol glanced over at her boyfriend who was scowling. "He does."

Seeing the two next to each other, Archer was struck by how similar they looked. T'Pol was a little taller with more red in her hair, but other than that the lips, tiny frame … everything else looked similar.

"You two are cousins?" Archer asked, trying to fill the awkward silence.

Rama and T'Pol blinked their eyes nearly at the same speed. "Yes," said Rama as if it was obvious the two were related.

"My father's sister's daughter," T'Pol clarified.

"We were friends growing up," Rama said. "When T'Pol left to go to … Earth, she asked me to look after this house."

"The house has been well cared for," T'Pol said, surveying the room.

A timer sounded and Archer gestured toward the kitchen, looking for his cue to leave. "Uhm, I'm cooking breakfast. Rama would you like to stay?"

The woman looked at T'Pol's nightgown and said, "I have other business to attend to."

As Archer made his way back, Rama folded her arms in her robes and gave the slightest of frowns. She picked up the rest of the conversation in Vulcan.

"Your father would be unhappy with these circumstances."

T'Pol watched her feet. "Father is dead."

"You were always rebellious … always fascinated with other cultures, but … a human? I hear they are barbaric, flesh-eating animals."

"You've met one, do you believe he's a barbaric animal?"

"By the … events … that were happening at my arrival, perhaps."

T'Pol turned from her cousin. Maybe her mother's death wasn't the only thing that drove her from Vulcan. Her father's family was judgmental in a way that many Vulcans were – sticking to their haughty ideals and looking down their noses at others' beliefs. Her mother's family was more accepting believing and accepting the axiom, "infinite diversity in infinite combinations."

Rama asked, quietly, "I take it you have … mated with that creature?"

"It's none of your concern," she said flatly.

"Your communiqué indicated you wanted him to take the Th'lor Challenge?" Rama said, indicating he wouldn't be taking the unity challenge unless they were intimate.

"Yes."

The darker haired Vulcan turned her eyes to the floor. "If you think my reaction is strong, Sovok will be more severe. He will not be … pleased by the union."

Sovok was her father's brother, younger, but had the same conservative values. His children's names were all traditional – named after the philosopher's who followed the teachings of Surak. They made pilgrimages to Mt. Selaya yearly and never under any circumstances let alcohol touch their lips.

As the patriarch on her father's side, he would be conducting some of the test. Luckily she fared better on her mother's side. V'Lin was her mother's sister – a woman regal and warm … for a Vulcan. The oldest one alive at a meager 167, the kind, gray haired woman would lead Jonathan through other tests. Jonathan would undoubtedly like her. Even her father would grumble, for a Vulcan, that her mother's family had … spunk.

Rama asked, "Does Sovok know?"

T'Pol's eyes widened. "Not yet. Will you tell him?"

"It's not my place."

The two caught each other's eyes and T'Pol seemed to thank her with them as the other Vulcan decided not to become too sentimental.

"Try not to judge Jonathan so quickly. He has many fine qualities, even many that a Vulcan would appreciate."

The other woman gave a half-hearted nod. "You are of course invited to dinner tonight."

"Will your family be there?" T'Pol asked.

"My brother Sparin and my mother, yes."

"Kar?" she asked.

"No." And with that, she strolled out the door.

Archer, having listened to the very end of their conversation, paused and leaned against the archway in between the living room and kitchen. Although he didn't understand much Vulcan, he could hear the thoughts in T'Pol's head and got the gist of the discussion. Turning her head she noticed his concern.

"Everything all right?" he asked, huskily.

"I've heard that Kar had married against his parents wishes, denying the betrothal his parents arranged.

He frowned, guessing that's why he wouldn't be showing up for dinner and … probably not at Kar's request.

"Will _you_ be shunned?" he asked.

"Perhaps. Although, because they are not my immediate family, they will be less inclined to deny me welcome. I am not disobeying their wishes as Kar had done."

Walking over to her, he drew her into a hug and kissed her forehead. Listening to her thoughts, Rama was the least conservative of the family, and yet her reaction had been rather extreme. Vulcans, although being able to tolerate other species, didn't welcome them openly. Humans had a reputation for being not just illogical, but were thought to be hedonistic.

"We should be more careful," he said quietly into her hair. By the compromising position they'd been caught in, he'd guessed Rama was only more convinced that humans led their lives solely based on their passions.

"Yes." Looking into his eyes, she asked. "Although … I know you were disappointed in the interruption." A furrow collected along his brow and she whispered, "I was also … disappointed."

Blushing, he was warmer than he'd been since his arrival on Vulcan. His body reacted to those words faster than his mind could process it. Pressing his lips tenderly against hers, he gave a low moan as his hand reached under her hair and his mouth devoured hers with more urgency. His tongue slid between her lips, tasting her mouth … savoring it … as if he was kissing her for the first time. Gently breaking his grasp, the Vulcan raised her eyebrow at him and stroked the side of his face.

"I can't believe the compound is making me so …."

Silently, she studied his half-lidded eyes; they stared at her like he wanted to eat her.

"I crave you," he whispered.

"Yes," she said, reading it in his mind. It made her body hot as if a fire burned deep within her belly. It tickled her skin and made it slick with sweat … and anticipation. As she licked her lips, she pondered that the thoughts … the craving … felt like hers. Her eyes fell to his mouth, hoping it would take hers again.

Before she could object, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bedroom.


	7. Part 7

After brunch, which was really cold breakfast by the time they ate it, T'Pol took Archer to one of her favorite museums in T'Lal. At 1100 hours, they had plenty of time to do a little sightseeing, something she knew Jonathan would enjoy.

T'Pol's other motive for taking him was to prep him on dinner tonight; there was a lot to understand about Vulcan meals and she wanted Jonathan to make a good impression. Although Rama's words indicated T'Pol was welcome to come for the evening meal, on Vulcan when one was invited to dinner, it was expected that he or she would attend. And T'Pol knew Vulcans always started promptly at 1500 – her extended family was no different, which meant she only had a few hours to depart the protocols and rituals he'd be expected to participate in.

Walking into the T'Lal Museum of Cultural History – a regal building, four stories high with ornamental spires that reached into the heavens. Archer marveled at the unique color of the structure: the color of what he imagined burning sand to be – orange and brown like fire. It was the color of age; he wondered just how old.

"This building was constructed 800 years after the time of Surak."

He smiled and asked, "Reading my thoughts?"

Shaking her head mildly, she said, "I've been unable to hear your thoughts all day. It seems when you take the sedative our connection is dampened significantly."

Thinking she was probably glad to have a little peace in quiet, he grinned. "Less mind chatter?"

"Definitely so."

As he gazed at the structure towering in front of him, he scanned the enormous runes that were carved into the stone of the front and wished he could read the symbols. While his mind was focused on that task, he felt a poke in his leg. He looked down to see a small Vulcan child – probably around four human years – staring up with wide-eyed wonder. A smile blazed across Archer's lips, wanting to say hello, as the little boy shrieked in terror.

His mother, a stern looking woman about T'Pol's age, quickly intervened grabbing her child's hand and yanking him into the museum while speaking in what seemed like -- for a Vulcan -- hushed anger.

Furrowing his brow, Jonathan looked at his girlfriend for an answer.

"Few Vulcans have ever seen humans, except in periodicals and textbooks. That child has not been through the Kolinahr."

_This is how T'Pol must've felt on Earth._ As Archer glanced around, he noticed the stares.

"Jonathan, … the description of your species isn't entirely … flattering."

"I'm not surprised," he said. "But, how do they know I'm human … other than the ears?"

She raised her eyebrow and with stoicism said, "It's obvious."

Leaving Archer blinking in bewilderment, she strode into the museum without paying any money (apparently it was free to all). After watching her disappear into the building, he shook his head and marched in. As soon as he entered he noticed a rainbow pattern reflected on the wall; a giant crystal IDIC filled the entire center space reaching to the ceiling and shone light in all directions like a prism. The beams danced against the white walls and forced him to squint and think about fishing into his pocket for his shades.

A deep, rumbling voice overhead said something in Vulcan that echoed as all the passersby for a moment bowed their heads almost in reverence.

T'Pol leaned over and whispered, "It is a dramatic reading from the works of Surak. He had a saying that museums fill the mind with knowledge so that we may expand our horizons and see, with greater clarity, the future and the past."

"Does it say anything about flash photography?" he added as a joke.

With confusion she poked her eyebrow up, ignoring him grinning at her.

* * *

As they enjoyed the history of Vulcan, most of which surprised Jonathan – the volcanoes that erupted making canyons and valleys in the desert, the wars, the peace that Surak brought, the challenge to rebuild (which Vulcans still considered they were attempting, even after thousands of years) – she began to prepare him for what the family dinner would entail and the rituals and protocols he'd should follow. Going over everything in detail, she covered how to address her family, how to act, how to eat, what to say … and more importantly what _not _to say. 

After hearing some of the rules – speak when spoken to, but not before; quiet his voice and still his mind; refrain from touching anyone or anything – he gathered this was going to be worse than when he met Rebecca's folks (his last serious girlfriend). To put it into perspective, he recalled a dinner conversation filled with "interesting" facts about the sanitation industry – Beck's father's profession – and some rather unpleasant needling from her mother about when she was going to settle down … something that made him incredibly uncomfortable. Luckily that dinner had only lasted three hours; this one was slated to last about five.

Glancing down at his chronometer, he asked, "Maybe we should think about leaving. We've got about two hours."

"Indeed," she said, turning to head back to the shuttle. As her feet tapped against the stone floor, she decided to see if he could recall some of the information she's shared with him the past few hours.

"When you greet them, will you give them the traditional Vulcan greeting or bow?" she asked, hoping he'd know the basics.

"I bow to your aunt, but provide a greeting to your cousins."

"Good. We need to do one thing before returning to the house. I hope you're agreeable to it."

With a worried glance, he caught her eye – it looked oddly vulnerable as if she was almost afraid to ask for this favor.

"Okay?" he asked.

"I'd like you to wear Vulcan robes when meeting my family."

His brow furrowed as he continued to walk behind her. "What difference do the clothes that I wear make?"

Stopping as they reached the outside and touching his arm only for a second, she said, "You don't have to, but … I believe the dinner will be easier if you do so."

It was hard to tell her no. Giving a brief nod, he followed her into the shuttle and gave a slight frown – Beck never asked him to wear a suit to meet her folks. Actually, he would've rebelled if she had. Catching T'Pol out of the corner of his eye, he laid his head back against the passenger seat. Then again, he hadn't loved her with the same intensity or passion … not even a fraction of what he felt for the woman behind the helm of this shuttle.

"Okay."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing his thigh.

The two reached a market, reminding Archer somewhat of an upscale Marakesh – it had an old world mystique and charm – red tents scattered along the desert and a strange looking lyre being strummed and plucked. Stoically, logically, Vulcans padded their sandals and viewed the merchandise laid out in carts. Unlike Earth, no one called out their wares, instead they only answered questions – letting the merchandise speak for itself. Tapestries, fruits and vegetables, instruments – the variety of things available to buy astounded him.

T'Pol motioned to one vendor and the two slipped inside a tan tent. A tall man with fine gray hair turned toward them and immediately shot an eyebrow up at the human.

"What can I do for you?" he asked in Vulcan.

After a brief head nod, encouraging Archer to step all the way in the tent, she began to rattle off items needed in Vulcan. Catching every third or fourth word, he pieced together she was asking for a bunch of items for her … colleague. She'd used that word before for him, but this time it sounded particularly cool as if he was merely her friend.

At that particular point, the Vulcan merchant folded his arms and pointed two fingers under his chin, giving Archer the once over. It wasn't difficult to figure out the man scarcely believed the two were only friends and began to refer to him as something Archer'd never heard before, but the way it was said made it seem like he was saying "pet." And the amusement showing in T'Pol's eyes led him to believe it wasn't derogatory, which was enough to convince him to actually stay put – even if he was confused and feeling especially dumb.

The man whisked out a few silk-like fabrics – gold, red and brown -- and held them almost against his chest, making sure not to touch him.

"I would say brown is his color," said the merchant in Vulcan.

"What about that green," mentioned T'Pol spying a dazzling fabric from across the room. It was a spectacular color with flecks of gold, copper and bronze metallic, and runes hidden in only slightly lighter shades.

The merchant crossed over to the fabric and again held centimeters away from Archer.

"Yes, this seems to the one for him – matches his eyes," he said in Vulcan. "You have a good taste."

Pulling out a matching pair of coffee-colored Nehru-look jacket and pants, as well as yanking out a pair of large sandals (for his size 10 and a half feet), he stuffed them into Archer's hands, said a few words and then finally pointed to a small changing room. Although Vulcans weren't as embarrassed of their bodies as humans, trying on garments in private was a luxury, and this merchant was pleased to provide the small amenities to differentiate himself.

When Archer walked out (which seemed like forever since he had no idea how to put everything on), T'Pol's breath caught in her throat. Rubbing the material between her fingers, it felt like tat'tho: a fabric like velvet except smoother and finer.

The merchant seemed content as he fussed with the material that Archer obviously put on incorrectly and noted with a gleam in his eye that he had again guessed the right sizes for his customer.

"You look handsome," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Very handsome."

A wave of heat, hot enough to make his head spin, overcame him and he instinctively reached out to steady himself on T'Pol's shoulder.

The merchant glanced between the two and then said a few more words, as Archer watched his girl's lip fall as if she'd been teased. With some minor tweaks, the storeowner finished and collected a small amount of money from T'Pol. As the two left, Archer rubbed at his temples and swore to himself about the Vulcan suns and the warm robes.

When they made it back into the shuttle, Archer stretched out in the passenger's seat.

"Are you all right?" asked T'Pol.

No, his skin was on fire … like in his dreams … and he began to feel itchy.

"Yeah," he lied. They had one hour to get home and get ready for dinner. It didn't make sense to worry her.

After she'd climbed into her seat, instead of beginning the sequence to lift off, she leaned over and hungrily kissed his lips – something she would never normally risk in public.

"I am anxious to get back home," she whispered.

He furrowed his brow and blinked a few times. The sedative he'd taken was supposed to last until roughly 1900 hours; maybe his body was working up a tolerance to it.

Quietly against her lips, he said, "Your family is expecting us soon. I don't think we have time." She didn't retreat, so he continued.

Shaking her head, as if to clear it, the Vulcan started the controls and began to fly back home. Immediately after lifting off, Archer noticed a tiny bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face as she brushed it carelessly away. He reached over for at the environmental controls and turned up the air conditioner a little, thankful that finally she wouldn't complain about getting cold.

While staring out the window, he was finding it difficult to concentrate. Instead of looking at the view and chit chatting with her, he imagined his lips dancing down her neck. As he was trying to push those thoughts down, T'Pol began rubbing his thigh again, inching her hand up slowly.

Whispers from her voice could be heard as their mind link came into focus. By her words and actions, it sounded like she wouldn't be against his advances.

"T'Pol," he whispered. The thoughts plaguing his brain made him still her hand, which he decided was lingering too close to areas that would only make him force her to land and paw off her clothes.

Biting her lip, she agreed and removed her hand. He blew out a short breath and wondered if he shouldn't just give himself another sedative; he could reduce the dosage significantly to keep from acting dopey at dinner and he wouldn't be as … edgy. He was hoping at the very least to not to come off like some hormone-driven hedonist that little Vulcan children had been warned about in textbooks.

When they reached the house, each showered, separately, despite a small suggestion from T'Pol that would speed up the process and got ready. Checking over his shaven visage in the mirror, he swallowed and gave himself less than a tenth of the dosage he took at bedtime and in the morning. Immediately, he felt better.

Five minutes later, T'Pol entered the bathroom. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah …."

"Your mind is quiet."

He smiled. No need to worry her. "I took a small dosage of the sedative."

"You indicated Dr. Phlox said to follow the instructions carefully."

"Don't worry," he smiled. "I'm sure everything will be fine."

Placing a nervous hand against her forehead, T'Pol recalled everything that happened at the banquet and gave into her doubts. With a tremor in her voice she said, "This is important."

His eyes narrowed. "I know, sweetheart."

A little exasperated, she said, "I just want everything to go perfectly." Her hand clenched into a ball and then fell against her thigh with a thud, emphasizing the point.

With a furrowed brow, he scrutinized her movements. "T'Pol?"

Taking a deep breath, she released it quietly and languidly. "I apologize. I'm not looking forward to seeing my father's sister again. My father's family are some of the strictest Vulcans – they have little tolerance for outsiders and other cultures; I can imagine their prejudice against humans will be extraordinarily difficult to deal with."

Hearing her adjust her voice and watching her manners turn serene gave him a little reassurance. With a sigh, he raised his palm as if to swear.

"I'll be on my very best behavior."

* * *

Before leaving, T'Pol inspected Archer – he looked almost Vulcan, except for the lopsided smile plastered on his face and rounded ears. Fixing the hood so it fell perfectly about his neck, the two took off for Rama's mother's house. The entire way there, Archer felt the anxiousness in his favorite Vulcan – not through their mind link, but by her nervous fidgeting (thumbing controls without depressing them and shifting with sighs in her chair) something she rarely did. 

As they stepped out of the shuttle, the entire house seemed to come alive – even for people with no emotion. Archer gathered they'd already been warned T'Pol's "boyfriend."

A young man who looked 16 in human years, opened the door and waited as the two approached the house. As instructed, Archer's hands intertwined calmly together in front of him as his head bowed only slightly.

"You the human?" the young man asked to Jonathan as he righted himself again.

"Sparin," non-emotionally scolded Rama.

Giving a slight glance over his shoulder he shrugged off the warning. "I've been interested in meeting you."

"Jonathan Archer," he said.

"Sparin," said the young man.

T'Pol walked toward the boy who seemed to light up on seeing his cousin. "T'Pol."

"Greetings," she said.

"It is agreeable to see you again. I've heard a lot about your adventures. Rama and I scour for data about everything that happens aboard the Enterprise."

With a mild eyebrow she shot a glance to Rama who suddenly seemed interested in the ground.

"Jonathan is the captain," T'Pol mentioned, nodding over to him as he tried not to look bemused.

"Is that so?" he asked. Without a smile, but looking like he might break into laughter, he said, "In that case, I've heard a lot about you."

Rama walked out and stood near her brother, almost as if she were going to put her arm around him.

"Our guests should enter, Sparin."

Archer lifted his hands and began to boy, when Rama said, "No need for a formal greeting. I've seen a lot of you." Her eyebrow perked – it was pretty clear she meant _physically_.

He tried to remain neutral and said, "Right."

A slight woman entered the room seeming to cause her children to stand up straighter and turn their faces flatter – their mother. Seeming 63 in human years, her eyes were cold and her hair was still black and shiny. Thin and muscular, she gave a single wave to the two who wandered a little farther in. Jonathan and T'Pol bowed to her.

T'Pol bowed deeply. "Valara, it has been years. The welcome into your home is appreciated."

"_Appreciation_ is not the Vulcan way." Curling up her lip by only centimeters, she said, "T'Pol, bring your guest and sit over at the table."

With a slight turn of her head, she walked millimeters in front of Jonathan and led him to a small Japanese-style table that required everyone to sit. Rama and Sparin sat first, followed by T'Pol and Jonathan.

"I've never met a human before," said Sparin, staring at Archer's features. His eyes wandered over his ears and facial hair with particular interest. "Why are you in Vulcan garments?"

Without tipping T'Pol's hand, he said, "I thought it would make a better impression." And then without really intending to, he gave a small smile.

"Vahar-aren," Sparin said quietly to himself, without much inflection to the words.

Archer glanced at T'Pol hoping to get more information, but through the sedative had trouble heading the words she was saying. Reading his confusion, T'Pol explained.

"Sparin used an idiom. It means – to excel in surprise."

Archer mused to himself whether it meant something like "cool."

"Do you do that a lot?" the young man asked. "Smile?"

Rama almost rolled her eyes and then explained, "Sparin is in his first year at the Vulcan Science academy. His primary study is Universal Culture."

"T'Far said that there is a presence … a unity … that binds all species together," said Sparin, quoting a lecture he'd heard recently. "I think that study would be fascinating."

Archer asked, "T'Far?"

"A Vulcan archeologist and psychologist. You might think of her along the lines of Jung," mentioned T'Pol.

Sparin continued, "She researched 126 galactic cultures and found many similarities, especially in their stories and myths."

Archer pushed up the sleeves of his robe and said, "I can believe that – Surak reminds me of various Earth leaders … Jesus, Buddha, Gandhi, Martin Luther King …."

"I have heard of them. Curious." Sparin leaned in and continued chatting quietly with the captain about all the Earth customs he'd read about (shaking hands, eating meat, choosing marriage partners and more).

Rama used that opportunity to talk with her cousin in Vulcan. "Have you told mother why you are here? It will look strange bringing a human to not only our planet, but this home."

T'Pol almost sighed, "It is inevitable that she find out. I couldn't leave Jonathan at home while I pay my respects."

Rama nodded silently.

In an instant Valara appeared with some dishes and put them on the table. On her entry the room became quiet and each person bowed their heads and began eating. Jonathan had been counseled not to look up, but to keep his eyes on his plate until he finished everything. Just like the banquet a couple of nights ago, the food on the table was sparse; there was nothing of real substance to eat. And just like the banquet, T'Pol encouraged him to eat a very small portion – smaller than Sparin's. It was considered polite.

Taking each bland bite into his mouth, he attempted to change the pace of his eating to accommodate the longer meal of Vulcans. Although he slowed down quite a bit (T'Pol had informed him sometimes he wolfed down his food), he was still finished before the others. Trying to wait patiently, he afforded himself a quick glance out of his right eye and caught Sparin watching him. As if to prompt the human on what to do, he nodded his head toward a bowl and then mimicked his fingers dipping in it.

Archer'd forgotten that part and carefully reach over, which was difficult on the small table, and followed Sparin's advice. After another ten minutes when everyone was done, they stood silently, Valara poured tea into small ceramic cups, Rama lit the candles scattered through out the room, Sparin took everyone's robes, and then they all sat cross-legged on the pillows in the living room.

"I see T'Pol has prepared you for our customs, Archer," Valara said in broken English.

Why did all the Vulcans have to call me by my last name? "She did," he said, while keep his voice soothing, which he'd also been advised to do.

"For what purpose did you bring this guest home?" the matron asked T'Pol.

Taking the smallest breath, she said, "I want him to take Th'lor challenge," She expected a Vulcan uproar and wasn't disappointed.

Sparin's jaw fell open by centimeters as Valara seemed to nearly choke on the spiced tea she'd just swallowed. Putting down the cup, she spoke in Vulcan.

"He is your mate?" she asked. Archer couldn't help but notice she raised her voice quite a bit without breaking into a yell. He didn't quite get all the words down, but had a pretty good idea what was going down.

Playing with the thumb of her right hand, T'Pol responded in Vulcan. "He is."

Archer felt everyone swinging his or her eyes to him.

"I chose him," T'Pol said.

"A human?" Valara asked.

"Yes."

"Illogical."

"His voice speaks to me. We have a bond."

Rama's eyebrows perched onto her head, hearing the new piece of information.

Almost gasping the older woman clutched her cup as if she would break it. "Does Sovok know?" Valara asked, but was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"No. Not yet."

In English, Valara said, "As the head of this family, it is his decision whether to conduct this challenge."

"It's not his _decision_; he must," T'Pol countered in English.

Valara leaned over with eyes that looked as if they wanted to slap the Vulcan. "You will not confer with him, but demand this rite?"

A rebellious eyebrow met her comment. "Yes, if I have to."

"Your father would be disappointed in you. You bring shame to your family."

"_Disappointment_ is not the Vulcan way, Valara."

Beginning to sense a megaton bomb of tension building, Archer decided to break the rule about not speaking unless spoken to.

"Valara, we don't wish to break Vulcan tradition. I can … hear T'Pol's thoughts in my mind. T'Pol is my soulmate and on Earth that kind of relationship is rare."

The older woman scrutinized him and raised an annoyed eyebrow. "If you could hear T'Pol's thoughts, you would know I was not speaking to you, Earthling. And as for your customs, we are not on _your _world."

Rama decided to speak up. "It's ultimately between Sovok and T'Pol. Wouldn't you agree, Mother?"

Valara gave a slight tilt of her head in affirmation. Instead of continuing that line of conversation, she peppered T'Pol with questions about humans in Vulcans, ensuring she didn't say anything else to Archer.

After an hour of being bored out of his mind, Archer finally made his way toward the bathroom hoping to get a small breather. As he was about to shut the door, T'Pol appeared from out of nowhere.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," he whispered. It was grueling and he had a headache, but lying seemed in everyone's best interest.

"Have I mentioned how handsome you look?"

He frowned and narrowed his eyes, worried that she seemed fixated on the idea. Her hand caressed the side of his face and she leaned her body against him.

"Aren't they going to miss you in there?"

"Perhaps." As she was about to turn around, her teeth nipped at his throat. "Aisha, I am anxious to get home."

He blinked rather quickly and noticed a bead of sweat at her brow. Instead of letting her retreat, he grabbed her arm.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes. It's warm in here," she replied.

'Can't argue with that,' he thought, feeling sweat gather at his lower back.

Before he could say anything else, she disappeared back into the other room.

* * *

Four hours and fifty-nine minutes. Archer gave final bow and entering the shuttle – counting every second. When Vulcans said "about" or "approximately" when referring to time, what they really meant is give or take thirty seconds. T'Pol was always punctual; he thought it was a nice trait (especially having girlfriends who were always thirty minutes late), but didn't realize the entire species was always on time. 

As soon as he climbed in, T'Pol freed his knee of the green garments that folded over it and began to massage it.

"I hope it was not intolerable for you," she said.

"Uhm, it was fine. Sounds like tomorrow night we're spending dinner with Sovok?"

"Yes. Tomorrow morning, we meet V'Lin at the base of Mt. Selaya for your first challenge."

Feeling her hand crawl up his inner thigh by a few decimeters, he shifted a bit. "I didn't realize you'd spoken with her."

"Back in Shi'Kar."

"Am I climbing the mountain tomorrow?" he asked.

"I am unaware of the challenges, but … I believe so, yes." Her fingers traced swirling patters inching slowly upward. With a light cough, he held her hand and grumbled internally about the short notice.

"It'd be nice to get a little warning," he said with irritation.

Withdrawing her hand from his, she asked, "How would knowing sooner have helped?"

"What time do I have to get up?"

Placing her hand back on the inside of his thigh and kneaded the fabric of his pants, she remarked, "0600."

Stilling her hand, he asked, "What the heck has gotten into you?"

"What do you mean?"

Removing her fingers from his leg, he intertwined them with his. "I like the attention, but ... this is …."

"If you like it, why did you remove me hand?" she asked with a glimmer in her eye.

Freeing his hand again, he brushed his fingertips through her hair. "We've been very physical lately."

"Is there something wrong with that?"

Giving a lop-sided smile, he shook his head. "Not really. But, we haven't been this … active … since we first started going out."

"That's true," she said, landing the shuttle. "You sound as if it's a problem?"

Sighing, he unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out. Scratching his head he opened the house door for her, stepped in and was about to speak when her mouth crashed against his. Before he could do anything, she'd worked off his robe and her fingers fought with the buttons on his tunic.

Taking her hands in his he backed away.

"I want you," she whispered, taking her own robe off.

"T'Pol …."

Snagging his hand she began to leading him into her bedroom. "I've wanted you all evening."

He reluctantly followed, dragging his heels. When they reached her bedroom, her mouth feverishly moved against his – her tongue entered his mouth and she groaned into his throat.

Breaking the kiss, he stepped back and produced a slight frown. In the history of their relationship, he'd been turned down various times when he tried to initiate something intimate, but he had yet to turn her down … until now. It was bound to happen; it'd happened with all his previous girlfriends in some form or another.

Taking his thumb to her cheekbone and stroking lightly, noticing her panting at the feel, he whispered, "I'm not really in the mood. And, you said earlier today Mt. Seleya is two hours, which means we have to get up at 0300 hours."

Nodding slightly, she kissed at the hand that touched her cheek.

"T'Pol, I just wanna hit the hay."

Unfastening her own tunic, she decided that cajoling him was in order – it always worked … actually, he usually needed very little convincing. Slinking over to him, she attacked his mouth with her lips.

"What's gotten into you?"

Quivering her lips, her eyes fell to the floor. "I would've thought you'd want to."

Wrapping his arms around her in a hug, he kissed the side of her temple. "You are by far the sexiest woman I've ever met. We just have a long day tomorrow – that's all."

Taking her chin, he kissed her sweetly and as his lips left hers she seemed to whimper. After squinting at her for a few seconds, he wondered whether he should just concentrate on her needs. As he was about his mouth opened to let her know, she straightened herself and grew more … Vulcan.

"I apologize," she whispered, stepping away from him. Her hands grabbed at her tunic, righting it despite that it was splayed open.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Of course," she said. It was the most Vulcan she'd sounded almost all day.

Staring suspiciously into her eyes, he raised his brows waiting for her to explain more.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"What was all that about?" he asked.

Her fingers carelessly traced his lips. "Jonathan, even Vulcans feel want. Didn't you learn anything from the story I told you about T'Pana and Surak?"

Quietly he studied her and she whispered, "It's want that brought me to you in the first place."

His nose teased hers momentarily and his lips took hers quickly. "Expect me to call on that … want … sometime soon."

After embracing once more, Archer walked to his bedroom, brushed his teeth, washed his face, took the rest of the sedative from earlier (he was about due anyway), set an alarm and changed into his night garb. Turning off the light, he snuggled into the sheets and closed his eyes.

Jonathan felt a hand snake around his waist.

"Tushah aitlu tu," he heard in his ear. It sounded like T'Pol's voice – but huskier. Groggily he turned on his back and fluttered his eyes open, peering into the darkness. When he didn't see anything, he snuggled back into his pillow and closed his eyes, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him.

Immediately he felt an onslaught of kisses to his face and neck and then teeth tugging gingerly on his lower lip.

"T'Pol?" he asked sleepily. It was too dark for him to make sure, but it smelled like her – myrrh, cinnamon and other spices; as her mouth caught his again he noted it felt like hers – large, moist, tender lips.

Smoothing her hands over his chest, she kneaded the material and through the fabric – his flesh. Hoarsely, his voice hummed as if he enjoyed it and as soon as the noise left his lungs, she easily straddled him. Reaching up, he noticed she was naked.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Hungrily, her mouth caught his and her tongue pressed between his lips with ease. Without responding, he ended the kiss.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Tushah nem-tor," she said, her nails dancing against the skin and hair under his shirt – they combed the hair on his chest.

As her embraces increased in intensity and seduction, he knitted his brows. This wasn't a dream, but it didn't seem like reality. This didn't seem like T'Pol …. Something was definitely wrong.

"What's going on?"

Silently, her knee parted his legs open and with expertise, she concentrated her efforts where she thought it would excite him most. It got his attention and he blinked rapidly at her.

"T'Pol?" he asked again.

"I can't hear your mind," she said. Her mouth covered his earlobe and she suckled it and the spot directly behind it that she inevitably knew pleased him. She was right; it did.

"Huh?" he asked with confusion.

"I can't hear your mind. I want to. I … need to."

Her lips took his again and then moved down to his neck. Shifting his legs, he felt her hips slowly move against his clothing, teasing his body, and although drowsy – thanks to the sedative – he was quickly beginning to succumb and react.

"What's happened to you?" he asked, trying to maintain focus.

She said again, her breath on his lips. "I need to feel your mind … I need you."

Suddenly he felt her fingers dance across his temple and her mouth take his. Changing the position of her forefinger and thumb, letting them wander along his jaw, he heard her sigh almost with frustration.

"Jonathan, tushah boylau olau tu."

"I don't know … what you're saying," he whispered.

The pressure of her fingertips increased as he felt the creature on top of him attempted to enter his mind.

"T'Pol?"

"Olau tu." With more force her fingers clamped against his face – it was enough the felt his skin prickle.

"Ha," the Vulcan said in her native tongue, pushing her digits against his cheekbone and temple. He knew this word it meant yes and in an instant she overcame his mind.

_With a blinding light, a sandstorm swept through his mind –- tumbling and roaring. He heard the sounds even from the depths of the ocean and he felt her presence. It loomed larger than he anticipated._

_"T'Pol?!"_

_The dunes blew fiercely carried by the wind … scattering dirt and debris into the seas and turning the sky a fiery red. Sand whipped chaotically spreading in every direction and violated the calmness of the deep._

He gasped as she probed deeper into his mind, holding his jaw still.

"Olau tu."

And then the fingers of her right hand stiffened against his face and she forced her way through his drowsy mind, controlling it.

_The breeze became twister-like, kicking up sand and dumping it by the tons … creating sandbars … and landmasses of what seemed like epic proportions. The water around him began to evaporate._

The heat. It'd been driving him crazy -- swelling up within him every day he was on Vulcan and it was back now. The burning blazed along his jaw, traveled to his brain and sparked behind his eyes.

Panting, her teeth tore with more ferocity at his neck, as her mind probed deeper still.

_Lightning sparked from the dusty-twilight haze that crept closer, and shot through the remaining waters – jolting his body and sparking it to life. Freeing himself of the tumultuous waters, the ones she'd made murky and treacherous, he swam to the beach and crawled onto it, staring up as the earth shook and fumed around him._

_His skin shivered – pelted with tiny particles and heat – and his hand defensively fell in front of his eyes to protect them._

_All of it was too much. His body … his mind … the onslaught was too much._

_"T'Pol?"_

_Sand collected in his mouth when it opened and then aimed for his nose, eyes, hair and skin; it choked him and he tried to clear his throat spitting onto the shore._

_Straining to see into the miasma, he caught sight of a woman descending the dunes surrounded by swirling khaki clouds. It was T'Pol, and she was naked, swaying toward him._

On seeing her, images bombarded his mind -- encounters they'd had and hadn't – things she wanted him to do to her and things he wanted her to do to him.

"I need to hear your thoughts, but it's difficult," she said with exasperation. "What have you done?"

"I took a sedative," he said feeling her body undulating against his, which caused a small huff to escape his lips. "Please, this is too much."

Her fingers wrapped possessively around his jaw and near irritation spurted from her mouth. "Stop taking it."

Before he could respond to her request, she growled the same words – a demand. "Stop taking it."

He itched like sand was creeping into the crevices of clothes and hanging in locations he couldn't scratch. His skin was hot and he could feel his cheeks flush. Even his insides felt warm – baking like clay under the an oppressive sun.

"I need to hear you … your voice." Nipping at his lips, she said, "I want you."

"What's wrong with you?" he managed to ground out.

Whispering into his ear and sending him mental images, she promised satisfying his desires, the ones they'd never acted upon but she knew he lusted for.

"Oh, God," he whispered as if under a spell.

Shivering and sweaty, but cold to the touch, she licked her lips and then pressed them to his. She pinned him against the mattress and without further explanation, began to tear off his shirt. Ripping at the fabric of his garment, she took tiny bits of his flesh along with it as her nails shredding his skin. Twisting underneath her, confused by the onslaught of images and her actions, he wanted to surrender to her. The anticipation was already becoming unbearable. He knew that taking her in his arms would somehow cool his body and mind. The only thing that flittered in the back of his mind, nagging him, was that this woman didn't seem like the Vulcan he'd known for four years. He'd seen T'Pol heavy with desire, but never like this – it was a little frightening as well as erotic.

"Tell me you'll stop taking it," she demanded. Canines sank a little too deeply into his bottom lip and he moaned at the mix of pain and pleasure.

"Something's wrong with you," he said, as if to explain her actions to himself.

"You're enjoying it," she responded.

Touring his body again, she drank at his throat – sucking the tiny beads of sweat that formed there as she slid her body against his. With him pinned, his mind was free for her exploration. Sharpening her focus, her fingers gripped the side of his face and his back arched.

_Her skin was the color of sun-warmed copper and her hair was auburn … like the Vulcan sky as the suns sank on the horizon and the moons began their ascent. The color of wet sand filled her eyes; the irises also displayed something of fire – the greens and yellows that emit from a match or a gas burner with hot intensity. Regally, her lithe naked body stalked toward him as waves of heat radiated toward him. Pressing his palms against the shore, he struggled to his knees._

Trying to shift marginally under her and take her body to his, he felt at once her re-assert herself. As his neck craned toward her mouth for a kiss, he could hear a slight growl catch at the back of her throat and lay his head back down.

"Ri dvun." (Don't move.)

Her lips and hand goaded him and he huffed against her mouth.

"What do you want?" she asked.

_Staggering, as if battered and torn, he walked toward her and touched her face. His fingers burned and he wanted to recoil, but her mouth took his and her tongue wagged against his. It was ripe and full – almost juicy._

_And suddenly with unabashed lust, he wanted her – all of her in his mouth, surrounding him. He wanted to swallow her and welcome the fire to brush against his body and bubble up underneath his flesh. The instinct to mate was uncontrollable, and he knew it would dowse the flames._

Hungrily, his lips attempted to meet hers, but she avoided the contact and vulnerably, he felt his toes flex and curl into the covers.

"I want you," he whispered.

"Will you take the sedative again?" she asked. Closing his eyes, his body was reveling in her.

"No," he said too easily, slipping his eyes shut in ecstasy as she moved against him again.

When she stopped, his eyes flashed opened and he re-iterated the words with more conviction.

"No. Please, T'Pol …."

Satisfied, her body let up only marginally, freeing his hands. Wanting to take her in his arms, he reached out to pull her toward him and felt an easy block – she was quicker and stronger. Darting to his waist, she worked his remaining clothes off and fell into his embrace.

As their movements intensified and quickened, she unleashed the emotions that she'd been controlling … hiding … for almost all her life. He understood something that her mind could not: she'd been calling to him … she had been for maybe as long as two weeks. Tonight, she'd needed him – begged and pleaded with him to come to her, but he never arrived. By the time she'd worked up the courage to come to him, she'd waited too long and these were consequences.

"Pon Farr?" Archer heard his hoarse voice ask at the almost unrecognizable woman in bed with him.

* * *

At 0300 his alarm went off. With excruciating effort, he raised his head and smacked the buzzer off with his hand. Staring into the darkness, he felt for a smooth, warm body beside him and was disappointed when his hand caressed the sheets rather than her skin. In fact, the covers weren't even warm. 

Overcoming his mind and controlling his body, she'd unleashed her passion and his. At the time, it was glorious and wild – she'd growled at him, decorated him with love bites, tore at his skin and ripped at his hair.

Groggily, he stood up and reached down to the floor and stepped into his pajamas (avoiding the strips of shirt that lay waste in his room). He stretched his limbs, noticing with a grimace how sore and worn he felt, and ran his fingers aimlessly through his hair.

Something was absolutely and definitely wrong with her.

Recalling everything that happened between the two, in the light of early day, he thought their encounter wasn't glorious … it was frightening. T'Pol had lost all control. He'd witnessed only a few times he'd seen her veneer ripped away, like on the Selaya and possibly when he'd returned from Xindi aquatic ship. Last night reminded him disturbingly of those times. Her yells, the way she stormed through his mind and desperateness of her fingers against his skin … it was unlike her.

As he walked, bare-chested, into the living room he noticed T'Pol was ready awake and staring into the darkness.

"We need to leave soon," she said, sipping her tea as if nothing had happened last night.

"T'Pol …."

She turned on the overhead light for him – she knew his visual limitations – and was stunned at the sight. As her eyes roamed over him, she noticed, tiny scratches and a few bruises along his arms, neck and hips. His lip was fat, as if smacked and he had rings around his eyes like he hadn't slept all night.

"Jonathan?" she asked.

Watching her stare at him with confusion made him frown.

"What happened to you?" she asked, noticing his concern.

"What?" he asked. When her expression remained neutral, he stared at her.

She knitted her brow. "I asked what happened."

Giving her a furrowed brow, he said. "T'Pol …."

Seeing she was still waiting for his answer, he finally gave in. "You did this … last night. Don't you remember?"

"Me?" with surprise and disbelief.

Beginning to believe her reaction was genuine, he folded his arms across his chest. "There is something seriously wrong with you."

Showing the slightest degree of shock, she shook her head only slightly. "I would never do that to you. I was asleep all night in my bedroom."

"T'Pol, I know it was you."

Concern cross her features and her head bowed as if to search her memory. When Jonathan had indicated he was uninterested in being with her last night, she accepted the information with more than a little disappointment and headed to bed. Although her sleep was filled with erotic dreams that played over and over in her mind, it was mostly peaceful. In fact, she noted when she awoke in her bed that it was the best sleep she'd had in a couple of weeks.

"I think I would've remembered," she said, sincerely. Her face alight with explanation she added, "You have been taking more than the usual amount of sedatives."

He could tell where this was going and clenched his teeth.

"More than what Dr. Phlox recommended," she said.

"You think I did this to myself?" he asked.

Raising her eyebrows, she seemed to indicate that was exactly what she was thinking. The side effects for overmedication apparently include hallucinations.

That was simply and utterly impossible, he thought.

"Last night, you came into my room and …," he didn't want to say the remaining words but could tell based on her hesitation she needed to know. "And … you were … begging me to …."

She raised one eyebrow, gathering what he was about to say. "Perhaps someone else?" she asked.

"No."

"Jonathan, I'm saying it's impossible. I asleep all night."

"Are you in … the mating cycle?" he asked, reluctantly.

She almost frowned. "No. I'm not scheduled to until I'm 67." Her answer seemed definitive. It was easily another 7 months before she reached that age.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Vulcan females who do not have Vulcan mates all enter the cycle at that time."

"Something is definitely wrong with you," he said.

"I don't feel as if anything is wrong."

Archer huffed. "You've been more eager lately … like at your aunt's house."

"I indicated even Vulcans feel desire."

"Yes, but you've been more aggressive."

"I thought you wanted that."

He shook his head. "You're telling me you're perfectly fine and you haven't been acting odd?" His hands landed on his hips. "I find that hard to believe."

She blew out a small breath. "I have been … anxious … about seeing my family. But other than that, I'm fine."

"I disagree."

Glancing at the chronometer on the wall, she flattened her lips together. "Jonathan, if … you … were to take the challenge, we should leave very soon."

"After the challenge will you see a doctor?"

She eyed the floor. "Yes."

He glanced at the clock. Nodding, he turned on his heel and stepped into the bathroom. Confused and a little pissed off, he stripped out of his clothes. A flash … an image filled his mind that made him almost reel. He envisioned T'Pol was in the shower waiting for him. Wiping at his eyes, he tried to shake the picture loose, but reminded himself he hadn't taken a sedative.

He'd promised T'Pol last night he wouldn't.

"I don't understand what's happening," he said to himself with more than a little concern.

TBC


	8. Part 8

The shuttle touched down in front of Mt. Seleya and T'Pol exited with Archer. T'Pol was wearing a traditional Vulcan robe, but Jon was dressed in climbing gear – a thin, tan propylene shirt and black shorts. A camelback was slung over his shoulder.

As soon as Archer's feet touched the ground, he noticed two things immediately: a mountain larger than what Everest, looming into the red swirling sky, and T'Pol's aunt. The travelers walked toward the older woman.

With a lop-sided grin, he noticed she wasn't at all like he expected. Based on T'Pol's description, he imagined a regal looking woman with fine white hair – something like T'Pol, except older. Instead, he saw a short, round woman – almost cherub like – with large, round cheeks and expressive hazel eyes. Her lips, unlike that of T'Pol's, were small and drawn like a bow. And her hair was thick and styled into a bob. It made her look unconventional; it wasn't the do he'd seen other Vulcans sport.

Fluttering around her, dancing in the wind as if it didn't belong, was a long, bluish-purple Vulcan robe. It was thin, but elegant. And unlike the Vulcans he'd met in the past, he could see something that reminded him of tennis shoes, without the laces, on her feet – they appeared soft and comfortable.

In a word, she was eccentric, especially for her species.

_She looks like someone's grandmother, he thought almost chuckling to himself. _

Although her mouth was as straight as an arrow, somehow she appeared to be smiling. It immediately put the captain at ease, mostly because it reminded him of V'Lar.

"It is more than agreeable to see you again, T'Pol," said the kind, older woman. Padding her feet against the sand, almost in a waddle, she closed the distance. In fact, Archer noticed she stood closer than any Vulcan he'd met thus far, including Sparin.

"V'Lin, it is more than agreeable to see you as well."

V'Lin's eyes narrowed for a moment, as she inspected T'Pol from head to tow. "You have gotten thin on Enterprise. Do they not allow you the proper sustenance?"

T'Pol's eyebrow perked up. "I am the same weight as when I left."

"Ah," she said, as if sharing a small joke – her eyes were twinkling.

The Vulcan first officer turned to Archer. "My mother's sister always claims I am gaunt."

"Takes after her father's side," she retorted. Leveling her eyes at her niece she added a few words. "My rythlpa would add some weight to you."

T'Pol's mouth fell by millimeters and V'Lin turned her attention to the guest. "You must forgive our banter. I have … what is your word … missed T'Pol."

"Trust me, I'm used to seeing worse." Archer grinned and introduced himself. "I'm Jonathan Archer."

"Do you prefer Jonathan or Archer?" she asked.

Stunned he replied, "Jonathan is fine. Thanks for asking. Everyone so far has called me Archer."

"It's their mistake. I understand it's rude not to ask."

He glanced over at T'Pol with raised eyebrows and then slowly aimed his gaze back at the older woman. "Your English is very good."

"When T'Pol contacted me I began to practice. There are many words I don't know. But, overall, I find the language easier to learn than … for example … Klingon."

"V'Lin has been a translator for more than one hundred years where she worked at the Vulcan High Command."

"I'm impressed."

"Don't be. My specialty was cryptology. Learning languages is mostly a pastime. With universal translators and the like, there is little need for me or my services anymore."

"On the contrary," T'Pol said. "She's one of Vulcan's most renowned language experts."

"I have a communications officer who'd probably love to meet you."

T'Pol nodded in agreement as the woman bowed her head with near embarrassment.

"Enough about me. You came here for a specific task, and as the head of T'Pol's mother's family, it is my duty to conduct it. Jonathan, T'Pol tells me you are taking the challenge. Do you understand what this means?"

Reluctantly, he nodded. "Yes."

Pointing her eyes at T'Pol she watched for some sort of nod and received something akin to a head bob from her niece. Scanning Archer, she made a few assessments of her own – he too was thin. He was middle-aged for a human and would die well before T'Pol began to wear the marks of age. The odor that emanated him was almost intolerable, especially for a woman of her years. But, more than anything, it looked like the man adored T'Pol. The slight gazes between the two told her there was some sort of bond there. Her niece's eyes gleamed at him as if he was the only thing important to her.

"Walk with me," she instructed to Jonathan, leaving a confused T'Pol to raise a single eyebrow as the two headed off.

"Do you know the story of Rama?" asked the older woman.

"T'Pol's cousin?"

The older woman stopped and seemed almost amused, letting her eyes twinkle and her mouth draw up slightly. Starting her gait again, she shook her head. "No, T'Pol's cousin was named after a woman who tried to seduce Surak. She was … I believe your word would be a … harlot?"

"Harlot?" Furrowing his eyebrows, he shook his head. "Valara's family hardly seems like they'd name their daughter after a … tainted woman."

She blinked quickly and looked at the ground. "Rama became one of Surak's greatest students. She forged a friendship with him that would last until Surak died."

"I thought Surak was married to T'Pana?"

"He was." The two walked as the old woman recounted a tale as the captain listen, mesmerized.

Surak's word was spreading among the people of Vulcan, but he needed to advance logic and peace to the farthest reaches of the planet. Fah, one of the largest villages, was his next destination. It belonged to a woman – a powerful one.

T'Pana was with child, and could not make the distance, but because she was the companion of Surak and the mother of logic, she reasoned he should make the journey alone. As Surak touched her fingers for the last time, he whispered that he and his wife although parted would be never parted and always touching. Stroking her belly, hoping to excite the life he'd helped place there, he stared at her.

"I will send for you when the baby is born."

With that, he took off to Fah.

In those days, women were not the leaders they are now, but rather usually the servants, farmers and wives. T'Pana was unique in this way, one of the reasons why Surak bonded with her. And Rama was just as unique.

_Rama was born to a poor family and had obtained her status, privilege, wealth and property by using her guile and beauty. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman on Vulcan and captured the hearts of many tribesmen, peasants and statesman. Rama was sex and love personified – like a goddess. Her hair was the color of night and shone brilliantly in the sun. It was long and lush, scented with oils and combed to perfection. To display it to the world, she wore it loosely about her shoulders even in the desert wind, which was too afraid to pollute her tresses. Her eyes were green, like the color of an oasis – rare for a woman of Vulcan. And her figure … they say her figure appeared sculpted – almost as if artisans had chiseled it from the purest clay and baked by the most prosperous kilns. _

_But, her most devastating gift was her wiles. It was a gift that would keep men in her bedchamber -- happy and content, despite their wives and families. Seduction was perfected by this creature, and the rumor was no man could refuse her. No man. Anyone who was invited to lie with her was her slave, performing her bidding and dedicating their lives, wealth and property to her. _

_It gave her amusement, but little satisfaction. Even she longed for a mate who would speak to her mind – challenge her as well as satisfy her desire. It seemed impossible to achieve and yet she longed for it. _

_When Surak reached the village of Fah, he sought a hearing with this matriarch; he wanted to introduce his ideas and teach the people of that village for no profit, in return for the basics needed for survival: food, shelter and clothing. Without fear, he marched into her government house, as was the ritual, and asked for audience. _

_Every day for 31 days, he sat on the steps of the house, waiting for her arrival for naught. Surak was a patient man, and would not give up which worked to his advantage. Out of boredom she finally granted him an audience and heard his request. When Surak entered, a white toga fitting him and piled over his shoulder, she immediately became interested. _

_His argument was refined and imaginative. He spoke not of his own personal gain, but of the benefit to her people and those of Vulcan. It was intriguing. In addition, Surak treated her not as a goddess of beauty, but as a leader. He didn't fall into a stupor, beg on his knees, or open his heart or purse. The father of Vulcan logic spoke to her as if she was his equal and made his requests without the outpouring of emotion. _

_After sitting through his request, she permitted Surak to teach, provided him what he'd requested, but insisted he stay in her house. _

_"I can learn also, Teacher," she claimed, batting her long, dark lashes. _

_Almost smiling, the Vulcan returned. "The greatest minds admit they don't know everything. Your excellency, it would be my pleasure to teach you. I too can gain." _

_After months of training, Rama began to understand that logic – the ability to argue based on fact – was powerful. She enjoyed being challenged and questioning her mentor. Mating with Surak, and taking him as her lover, would give her access to that knowledge any time she wanted. It could challenge laws and win more wealth. _

_But, it wasn't just Surak's logic she wanted. It was him. During their conversations, she'd noticed many things about the philosopher. He was a handsome man – tall and with broad shoulders. Unlike those who chased her, he was gentle and humble. Intelligence and wisdom hung on him like a crown and humility draped on him like a mantle. His voice was steady and his manners were graceful and elegant. _

_After their lesson, Rama asked Surak to visit her that night. _

_"I have something for you," she said. "It is a gift to thank you." _

_"Teaching and the pursuit of knowledge is it's own gift, Rama," he replied. _

_"This will help you gain more knowledge. Think of it as a gift to us both," she whispered. _

_He bowed and left her, remarking he would visit as the suns set. _

_Rama went to her bedroom and prepared herself for seduction. Dowsing herself with the finest perfumes, oiling her hair, pinching her cheeks and throat to give off a green-glow and slipping on a green transparent robe, she laid on the bed – her hand holding her head as it fixed on the door – and waited for him. _

_Promptly at suns-set, he came to her. When she called him in, although shocked, he didn't portray his discomfort. _

_"I apologize. I did not understand you'd be indisposed." His eyes captured hers, rather than acknowledge she was virtually nude. _

_"I'm not. I'm here for you, Surak. You may collect your gift," she said, patting the space next to her. "I've been longing to give it to you." _

_With dispassion, the Vulcan shook his head. "You needn't do such a thing." _

_As he turned on his heel to leave her, she stood and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Every man who has entered here has shown me that they are men. You are living in my village, Surak. Disobeying my command could earn you death." _

_The Vulcan gave a near frown. "Rama, of all the pupils I have had, you understand reason and logic better than almost anyone. You are a fast learner with a keen mind." _

_Skimming her hands over her nightgown, she disagreed. "I want you and your logic to swell inside me … to complete me," she said with allure. _

_Her lips dangled dangerously close to his. Even the great Surak had difficulty denying her – her body was perfection and available to his scrutiny, her smell was like an aphrodisiac and her mouth was open begging for his tongue. _

_He stepped back and conjured up the chants of his deepest meditation silently in his mind. _

_"I want you," she whispered. _

_"Your mind is the greatest asset of all. Whether you believe it or not, _it_ has gained you wealth and power." _

_"No, my body has." She grabbed his hand to have it touch her, but he snatched it away. _

_"I disagree. Rama, there are women who are pleasing to the eye everywhere on Vulcan. They do not wield power – you do. Your mind has told your body how to get what you need. But, I hardly think you need to use your … arts … to get what you want. Your brain is your most attractive feature." _

_"You think I'm beautiful?" _

_"To deny it would be illogical." _

_"Then lie with me." _

_"I have a wife." _

_"I have slept with many married men." _

_"My wife is my companion. I have taken vows that I have no intention of breaking. We have a bond." _

_The woman in charge of the village would not give up easily. "Other men have said the same to me. They eventually succumbed to their lust." _

_"I am not other men." _

_"I suspect underneath it all, you are like other men," she whispered. Her hands traveled down his chest. _

_He backed away before it could reach any lower. "You do yourself dishonor, Rama. Someone with your mind could accomplish so much more than seducing men to gain trinkets. You have gifts that you can call upon even when your beauty fades." _

_Biting her lip, she stared into his eyes. They were emotionless and black like the darkest stone, hidden in the shadows. _

_"I suspect you've been looking for something all your life, seeking the admiration of men, money, power … and none of them have satisfied you," he whispered. _

_"That is untrue." _

_"A woman, such as yourself, could have any man. And yet you whore yourself and stoop to gaining the affection of poor teachers and married men." _

_Before she could reach up to slap him, he caught her hand. _

_"You are my student … my friend. We have been trading lessons … talking … for three months. During that time, I have learned much about you – come to respect and … admire you. Don't disgrace yourself like this. You are a great lady, able to accomplish many things … especially in a time when women do not receive the honor they deserve. Pay tribute to your mind. It is the only thing that will last. And, it will never leave you lonely or hungry by want." _

_Her head turned toward the ground. "I did not lie when I said I wanted you. I have admired you and respected you. Your eyes speak to me. Your mind … it speaks to me." _

_He did something he did not imagine he would do. As he was still holding her hand, he took it to his mouth and kissed the back of it, watching her eyes flash with surprise. It was not a romantic gesture, but touching and caring. _

_"You flatter me. But, you will find that having is not the same as wanting." _

_With a caress to her cheek, he caught a single tear – the only one she would let loose. " I will see you tomorrow at the usual time, my friend," he whispered. _

_With that, he left. Rama fell onto her bed, her brain turning over the information he had given her, and fell asleep musing that only one man had entered her bedroom without becoming her lover. And oddly enough, she was in love with only him. _

_The next day, Surak greeted her as he always did and began his lesson without reflecting on what happened the other night. In fact, his demeanor and the care he'd always shown her were still there, without discomfort, irritation or embarrassment. It was genuine and sparkled with true friendship. As they chatted, she was moved. _

He moved her.

_During the months that followed, Rama's mind soaked up logic and prompted her to give up the worldly things that tied her to wealth and power. As well, Surak and Rama grew closer – becoming deeper friends – including long walks, soulful discussions and the kind of intimate moments that exist between people who've known each other all their lives. _

_Rama hung onto each day, thinking there was the potential for love, but was met with merely the care of a friend. His heart was open to her, but he never trespassed boundaries … never crossed the line she was hoping he would. After all this time, Rama reasoned Surak was her soul mate. No man completed her more thoroughly, captured her imagination or sparked such a challenge. He was everything to her. _

_So each night, she would enter her room – now a cot and only the most needed possessions – and dream of him. It was the only location she knew they could be together without imposing on their friendship, embarrassing either further or driving a wedge between them. _

_One day, on one of the long walks Rama took with Surak, she saw in the distance a woman with braided hair approach, a child cradled in her arms. From their discussions, Rama knew this women was his wife – T'Pana. She'd evidently had the baby and was able to travel without restrictions; his wife chose to surprise him and join him immediately. The boy her arms held secure bore the mark of Surak's son – dark, thick hair and dark eyes. _

_What surprised Rama most was that T'Pana was not a beautiful woman. She was attractive, but more statuesque than lovely – she was built on a large frame and was tall. This was not the Vulcan ideal of beauty. And yet, there was an outer glow … a radiance about her. It made her regal and comely. _

_After the father of logic touched fingers with his wife … and some say … mouths, Surak introduced the women to each other. _

_"Surak talks about you often. I am pleased he had such a friend as you to keep him company." _

_Rama bowed. "T'Pana, I can think of no finer compliment. Your husband has become my dearest friend. I welcome you with open arms." _

_Within a few months of T'Pana's arrival, Surak was ready to depart wisdom elsewhere. He informed Rama, "You know cling to logic and the pursuit of it more than I do? I need to leave and you need no further instruction." _

_'What?" she asked. _

_"I must be going. I hear the leader of Slan may be open to logic." _

_"You cannot leave me. We have so much more to discuss." _

_As if touching his sister, his thumb stroked her cheek – a symbol of their connection. "You mean more to me than you will ever know." _

_"Then take me with you." _

_"My friend, your place is here." _

_With tears in her eyes, she shook her head. "It is illogical to cry, but the emotion is impossible to suppress. I cannot part from you. You have become something less than husband and more than friend. I hang on your words – they are music to me; they give me solace. Please, let me accompany you." _

_Her words touched his heart. "Rama, all we will ever be is friends. You are not my wife or my lover." _

_Surak was frank, and the look in his eyes was something between regret and concern. _

_"Since that one night, I have never asked for more. Do not deny me. It is my destiny to follow your footprints." _

_"Do not play the role of mistress even to logic." _

_"I will not. I play the role of student and teacher. It is all that I am … _now_." _

_Silently, he acknowledged her strength, even if he thought her decision was unwise. With hesitation, he agreed. "T'Pana could also use a friend. And I know that you two have much in common." _

_Rama also had interesting ideas and thoughts about spreading his word. And she suggested meditation as a way to help Vulcans achieve logic, peace and balance._

_"You will never regret this decision," she proclaimed. With that, she gave up her village and sold her possessions to travel with them. _

_Through the years, Rama rarely left Surak's side. She'd shared her innermost thoughts with him, making him the only man or person privy to the musings of her brain. They'd shared intimacy, the kind two friend's share, as she longed for more. She never married. When students would ask her, she would claim that logic had taken her heart, but she was careful to add, "I only give me heart to it, because I receive so much in return." _

_Some say, she loved the man until his dying day – loved him not only as the father of logic and her friend, but as a man, despite her vow to non-emotion and logic. Even when T'Pana died, which was untimely and before Surak's death, the two never married. The father of Vulcan logic reasoned he was past the Pon Farr and claimed his companion was lost. When asked if he would marry again, some say he looked at his friend Rama and said, "Although I have other companions, my love for them is too pure to taint." _

_And on her deathbed, Rama told her favorite pupil (who'd become a teacher himself), "When I am to be remembered, I want to be remembered as Surak's friend and greatest ally first. It is, emotional as it is, what I am most proud of." _

V'Lin stopped and Archer furrowed his brow. "That was a sad tale. She had unrequited love for Surak?"

"We will never know. _Love_ is not an emotion that Vulcans acknowledge or discuss. It may be felt in our hearts, but is rarely whispered from our lips. The fact that Surak mentions his feelings, and that it's written down, may mean something more. But nothing is chronicled of … more."

T'Pol had told him of her love for him. But, he didn't think it was his place to say so. It might embarrass T'Pol; it was unVulcanly.

"I know T'Pol feels love for me. Having her utter those words isn't important."

"That is good to hear."

"Why did you tell me that tale?"

As if she was hoping he'd ask, she turned to him. "Rama's devotion to Surak was unwavering. She denied many pleasures to be with him … without the promise he would ever give her more. Her beauty, her youth, her money, power … she gave … everything … everything to him. She made the ultimate self-sacrifice."

Archer blinked. "It seems to be the very essence of love. It's the kind of love I feel for T'Pol."

With raised eyebrows, she asked, "You do?"

He didn't need to think about the question. The answer came to him quickly and the certainty in his voice caused her to take a step back.

"Yes."

"You must climb the mountain before the suns set."

Archer craned his neck up and stared into the distance trying to peer at the peak. The top was impossible to see; masked by thick puffy clouds he had no way to gage the distance. He only had relative depth perception and it was telling him he'd never climbed something that high, in extreme heat, and certainly not so quickly. The feat was impossible. But, he reflected on the story – he could at least try. Nodding, he started to wander toward the shuttle.

"Let me get my gear."

V'Lin's voice stopped him in his tracks. "You may not use it. Rama gave up _everything _in her devotion. You cannot use your gear."

"Can I at least have water?"

"Yes." V'Lin reasoned, _Even Rama had water. _

"Binoculars?"

"No."

Archer placed his hands on his hips. "What you're asking is impossible."

The Vulcan made no motion.

"It's too high."

She didn't refute it, but remained neutral. "I have given you the challenge. Do you still accept?"

Wetting his lips, he thought about how hot he already was. He also surmised that despite taking the Tri-ox compound the abnormally thin air at higher climbs and would be intolerable, especially while exercising. And worse than all, during the story V'Lin retold, he actually became slightly aroused. Although he hated to admit it, he was imagining that Rama, the one in the story, looked exactly like T'Pol – a translucent gown adorning her naked body. It made him burn as if a fire stoked in his stomach.

"Jonathan?" she asked.

Blowing out a slow breath, he rejoined reality.

"I'm thinking."

There had to be a trick … some catch. Maybe if he started climbing something would happen. Staring up into the heavens – the mountain – he decided he had to at least try. He loved T'Pol and he'd come too far not to at least give everything he had to at least try. It seemed foolhardy, but … so be it.

After what seemed like minutes, Archer gave a firm nod. "All right."

She folded her hands behind her back and joined T'Pol as Archer scoped out the rock face with his naked eye determining which path to take.

"Jonathan has agreed to the challenge."

The younger Vulcan saw Archer pace around the mountain. "What is the challenge?"

"He must climb this mountain before the suns set."

"How high?" T'Pol asked, nonchalantly.

"To its peak."

Concern alighted her face. "Why isn't he removing the gear from the shuttle." Her tone was near panic and her eyes snapped from Jonathan to her aunt.

"He must climb the surface with his bare hands."

T'Pol's eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I've said."

T'Pol looked up the mountain. Mt. Selaya had the highest point on Vulcan. Her species had climbed to the top, but even they required the aid of equipment, including a breathing apparatus or intense training to take in air at the very highest altitude. What V'Lin was proposing was folly.

Although her boyfriend had proven indestructible and lucky (although she wouldn't call it luck), scaling the side of this mountain this tall would surely get him killed. Images of him lying on the ground with a broken neck flooded her mind.

"Jonathan, don't do this."

The captain ignored her and dug his climbing shoes (gear he already had on) into the ground preparing his mind for the journey.

"V'Lin, this challenge is unfair. He isn't Vulcan. The air is too thin … the heat …."

"He has accepted the challenge."

And before she could say anything else, Archer began to scale the rock face. Fortunately, it was craggy – holes and notches large enough for his hands were available all along it. The only thing that bothered him was the heat, which immediately baked his skin. Although he'd covered himself in sunscreen before leaving the house, he had a feeling it wasn't enough. Ignoring the sun and the mumblings of his brain, which thought about the story of Rama in lingerie, he scaled higher.

* * *

Below T'Pol watched on nervously – his form moved like a spider along a wall. Soon a few feet become ten … and then twenty and then he began to drift out of site – his face pained, his breathing ragged and sweat dripping off his brow and cascading down his back. She swung her eyes back at the women next to her. 

V'Lin, was the epitome of patience. Leisurely, she dug into her robes and pulled out a pair of binoculars.

"Would you like these? I hypothesized you may want to see his progress."

Without meaning to seem rude, but too interested in the action, she snatched the lenses and focused in on the distance.

Immediately her voice quivered. "He's too high. If he falls, he'll kill himself."

"He has agreed to the challenge."

"V'Lin –" T'Pol zoomed in and noticed the strain on Jonathan's face. His hair was soaked, dowsed with water and his shirt was dark as if it were drenched with perspiration. As the figure in her sights gulped his water, she threw her eyes on her aunt as if to make an accusation.

"He knew the consequences," V'Lin said.

Through the binoculars, T'Pol saw Archer wheeze and tire. She noticed his grip was getting clumsy. Biting her lip, she watched as rocks crumbled at a loose stone under his feet. His hand, which was dirty and bloody, clung to the form above him as his body dangled without support.

"Jonathan," she whispered as her knuckles turned white, her grip clenching the steel in her hand.

As if he was using all his energy, gasping, he pulled himself to solid ground. Standing up, he looked at his hands, probably noting the scrapes that ran along them and stared up. Licking his lips, he continued his ascent.

"No, he can't do this."

Her aunt, although seemingly troubled, continued to peer into the heavens with her naked eye.

"Please don't make him do this," said T'Pol.

V'Lin gave her niece a stony gaze. "I'm not making him do anything. This is of his own volition."

"He'll never complete it."

A small sigh escaped the aunt's nostrils. "He may not."

"Then why? This challenge is illogical."

"Your outbursts are the only things illogical here, T'Pol," she said sternly. "You are Vulcan. I suggest you conduct yourself accordingly." A single eyebrow met the comment. "You knew he would face a difficult obstacle."

"Not one that would result in his death."

"The challenges are what they are. This is how it has been since the time before Surak. This is the challenge. _The tradition lives within thee,_" she said, stating one of the older teachings of Surak.

"What is the purpose of this challenge, to see him suffer and die?"

"T'Pol, you became involved in with off-worlder. You knew he would face tests – difficult ones."

"No," she retorted.

V'Lin's eyes stayed focused on the figure above, ignoring the glare from the Vulcan next to her.

"No. There must be something else."

"There is not. It is quite specific. This is the challenge."

"Please, V'Lin."

"I cannot."

Meanwhile, Archer continued to ascend. After climbing roughly four stories, he immediately felt the affects of the thinner air and heat. The rocks of Mt. Seleya were sharp and jagged, making it easier to climb, but hard on the hands – they were already cut and bloody.

Panting, he dug his fingers into a crevice and pulled his body higher, noting the rocks were becoming less stable. Leaning up against a small cliff, he withdrew his camelback and took a swig. His forearm swept across his forehead and he stared up.

_Better to stare up than down, he thought to himself. _It was an old climber's code and one that he liked to think about on the rare occasion where he'd climbed himself into a jam.

As he drank his water, waves of heat began to pour out of the mountain. He knew it was an active volcano that hadn't erupted for decades, but didn't think about the warmth that escaped the small vents and chambers – which just happened to be along this route.

Worse, the heat made him think of last night and making love with T'Pol. At the time, his insides -- his lungs, liver, heart, stomach … every organ and muscle … everything had been on fire … and the only way to extinguish it was to mate.

_Mate? That's not a word I use everyday._

It wasn't a word he used really any day. "Mating" sounded primal, as if it was only used to satisfy sexual desires. Although he loved T'Pol, he had that … urge …. Urge. It was overwhelming drive to take T'Pol and … giving a small swoon, his hand reached out for a rock. He felt dizzy and weak.

_I have to continue._

Taking a deep breath and attempting to clear his mind, he stretched his index, middle and ring finger, grabbed onto a rock and hoisted himself up.

_I've got to hang on. _

T'Pol saw Jonathan's step falter considerably and out of reflex, grabbed the arm of her aunt. "Make it stop."

"He has accepted the challenge."

With ferocity, she turned back to her leveling her eyes – the sparkled with danger. "Make it stop!"

"Your voice is not one of control. He has accepted the challenge."

"I withdraw from the challenge."

"You withdraw?"

"I do not wish to see him hurt. Please, end this."

"You knew the consequences when you agreed to put him through this."

"No! I cannot see him die."

"Don't you want to be together?"

"I … I would rather he live. I … I could … marry him without your approval."

V'Lin looked her niece squarely in the eye, her gaze almost frightening in its intensity. "You would not have my blessing. The Vulcan High Command would never allow you to continue. You would be drummed out of the VHC, unable to return to Vulcan, forced to hand over your property to Sovok …. You would give up everything … everything … to be with him."

"So be it!" T'Pol said. She glanced back up the mountain becoming unglued at Archer's struggle.

"Why would you call it off now?" V'Lin asked.

"He is important to me."

"Important? I have documents that are important and tasks to perform that are … important. It seems you will eventually find another."

"Find another? No! I … care for him a great deal."

"You cared a great deal for your sehlat. Your outbursts, T'Pol, do not become you."

"I cannot hold my tongue with dispassion."

"You should. You learned that technique in the Kolinahr."

As T'Pol opened up her mouth to continue the debate, she watched Archer's water fall. After reaching a little over five stories, he would never be able to continue without it – not on a hot day with the sun firing down on him. She watched him peer gingerly over the edge to watch his canteen flip over the rocks and smash against the ground, spilling the contents.

_Everything about this task was foolish! _

"Please," T'Pol pleaded. "I cherish him."

"It is unbecoming a Vulcan to …."

"I don't care. I hear his mind; he's frightened. I feel the ache of his heart – he'll continue for me … for my sake. He's not listening to my plea."

"He has accepted the challenge."

"I can't allow that to happen." Her hand balled into a fist and she stamped the ground, "Please …. I withdraw from the challenge."

"I don't …."

"Please, V'Lin, I love him. I'd do anything." Frantically, the Vulcan was eyeing the shuttle as if she could rescue him by flying dangerously close to the mountain and gave a small frown – it could kill them both.

V'Lin nodded. "Very well. If you can hear his mind, tell him to hold still."

_Aisha, do not move. _

The matron retrieved a small device from her robe and opened it – a Vulcan communicator.

"V'Lin to Station 1, thank you for assistance. Transport him to the ground as soon as possible," she said.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow as Archer mysteriously transported back down to the sand at the base of the mountain. The man was dirty and sweaty, with blood flowing down his fingertips leaving streaks down his arms and heaving into the air as if he couldn't get enough oxygen. Even only after an hour, he was near exhaustion.

Rushing to him, she petted the side of his face. "I called off the challenge."

V'Lin talked to the air, as her niece was preoccupied. "I'm pleased they have a transportation station on Mt. Selaya."

The younger Vulcan didn't hear, but was instead, scanning over her boyfriend with concern.

"Are you hurt? You're bleeding."

"I'm okay," he huffed. "Why did … you call off … the challenge? This was important to you." His chest rose and fell with effort and his hair dripped water down his face.

"Not as important as you are to me."

"You can't call off the challenge," he said, huffing into the dry air. "I want to be with you. I'm not giving up."

"No. You'll kill yourself."

"T'Pol …."

"I will not jeopardize your life for pointless archaic rules. Jonathan, it is a fool's mission to continue …."

V'Lin watched the two argue for a moment and she eventually wandered over to them. Glancing at her chronometer she noted the time it took for T'Pol to ask to call off the challenge and admit her feelings – only an hour. It was not as fast as she would've expected, but still she was pleased with the result. After all, she liked the captain.

Breaking up the discussion, V'Lin asked, "Do you have an answer for me?"

"I'm continuing," said Archer, straightening and breathing with more control.

"No, he isn't," T'Pol said.

"I don't want you to give up coming back to your planet because of me … and I can't spend the rest of my life without you. I'll try again."

"I will not let you go back up there," she said stubbornly. "I will renounce my Vulcan rights."

The chubby Vulcan stepped between them and said, "Jonathan, I did not finish my tale to you. I wonder if I may now. It comes with a saying."

"What?" he asked, his face strained with confusion.

A pleased look spread over her face and she provided more information.

_One of Surak's most basic teachings is that sacrificing one's self or contentedness for a cause is full of courage and strength of character, but sacrificing one's self or contentedness for someone else's cause is full of heart. _

He gazed at her with confusion. "V'Lin …"

She added, "Love is not unknown to Vulcans, it is rarely whispered from their lips.

"I don't –"

"You have both passed this test. Future tests will have no announcement. But, I suppose it won't hurt anything to tell you," she said leaning in, "the next one will be conducted by Sovok probably tonight."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows. "I was being tested?"

"Of course."

"I do not recall that is the procedure."

V'Lin's eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm sure you didn't."

Stunned, Archer looked on. The test wasn't about scaling a mountain in a short amount of time without gear, it was to see whether he'd do it. And it sounded like having T'Pol sacrifice her own happiness, by not enabling her to ever come home, was a test as well. As bewildered gazes passed between the two lovers, V'Lin turned her eyes to the shuttle.

"I don't know about you, but I think it's a tad warm outside."

The two snapped their eyes back on her.

"I asked T'Pol's cousin, Stak, to drop me off here. I was wondering …. Would you would be so good as to take me home?"

Throwing a bewildered look at her relative, T'Pol nodded. "Of course."

The three headed to the shuttle as V'Lin leaned toward the captain, without touching him.

"She said she loved you."

Archer bowed his head and gave a long sideways gaze to T'Pol, noting how beautiful she looked warmed by the sun.

Giving a playful grin, he decided to admit something to V'Lin. "She's said it before."

"Oh?" asked V'Lin. "You could've saved yourself some bloody hands and exercise if you'd told me."

Archer stopped for a moment.

"But, what is the word humans use? It does not seem like it would … gallant. And you seem like a man of honor."

The captain chuckled – in all his years, he'd never figure out Vulcans.

"Yes, it's clear young man, two things are certain: you love T'Pol … and she loves you."

"I'm a lucky man."

The Vulcan gave the slightest nod, even though she would call it something other than luck. "Yes. I believe you are."

As they all boarded the shuttle, V'Lin watched her niece's eyes wander over him – staring at his chest and taking a moment to gawk at his backside. Although Vulcans felt desire, they were taught since the earliest ages to suppress those emotions. T'Pol may've been more emotional than many, but she had never been lecherous. Her feelings gravitated toward the romantic, as if the child was day-dreamy and caring. And, T'Pol always had a bit of eccentricity – the kind T'Lan, her mother always had.

_I suppose I'm a bit off, too, V'Lin mused._

The matron suddenly was aware he was looking at her with the same want. It seemed odd, even for hedonistic humans – after all, he'd received quite a work out. His legs and arms were shaking from lifting his body at high gravity and his lungs were still panting.

The old woman sat in the back and wondered. As the shuttle lifted off, she tented her fingers under her chin in thought and said, "T'Pol, your birthday is in seven months, is it not?"

"Yes," said the Vulcan.

"You hear Archer's voice?"

"Yes."

"Have you felt … peculiar lately?"

T'Pol shook her head as Jonathan spoke up for her. "She has."

"I've indicated I feel fine," T'Pol corrected.

V'Lin furrowed her brow and remained silent, her mind pondering the emotionality of her niece, the wanton looks passing between the two in the front seat and the two sharing thoughts. If Jonathan was Vulcan, she would easily claim it was the Pon Farr. After a slow building of feelings – including sexual desire from the woman … he would eventually become inundated with lust. The man's blood would begin to boil and she would fall prey to her basest emotions. Of course, the pace for her would be languid; she would ease into the feelings until she was teetering on the brink of sanity, unable to focus … her heart, blood and eyes would become flame.

Wiping her brow, V'Lin remembered that time. Although it was something all Vulcans fear – the madness and loss of control – she quite enjoyed aspects of it. Yes, she quite enjoyed aspects of it a lot.

Stopping the shuttle and touching down, T'Pol said, "You're home."

Archer opened his door and helped the old woman step to the ground. As their hands touched, V'Lin stared into his eyes a near-frown forming on her lips.

Withdrawing, knowing Vulcans hate to be touched, he apologized. "Sorry. Are you all right?"

Quietly, she said, "No, I'm sure it's nothing and headed for her house." As she reached her door and looked back at the shuttle she called out. "I'll be at dinner tonight."

The woman recited the symptoms of the mating cycle and decided she would definitely be at dinner tonight.

Archer, watching her stare at him, furrowed his brow, shook his head at the ground and then boarded the shuttle. If he didn't know any better, he'd have guessed she'd seen a ghost.

_I'll never understand Vulcans, he thought, giving a broad smile to the one in the driver's seat. _

* * *

As they entered the house, Archer felt keyed up – more than he'd felt since his journey to Vulcan if that was possible. The moment T'Pol closed the door, he came up behind her, slipping his hand around her hip and stroking the bone. 

Despite his smell – he was sweaty and filthy, she nearly crumpled into his touch. Lips darted down her neck and she snaked her hand behind her, reaching for his hair.

_Jonathan, she thought. _

Shuddering, he had the urge to take her against the door. His body pressed closer into hers and he heard himself telling her things he wanted to do to her, using language that he usually reserved for his most extreme anger. As they fell from his lips, instead of retreating with disgust, he felt her body rub against him.

"Yes," she whispered.

His lips pressed against the back of her neck and suckled the skin. With pleasure he noted the harder he sucked, the more she moaned until finally she said a few words so hoarsely, he thought the timbre of her voice dripped with passion.

"I want you."

Spinning her so she faced him, he pressed her up against the door and kissed her wildly. Her hands slid down his chest as her lips crashed against his. The release of the pent up lust was delicious, but each needed more. Much more.

Their tongues tangled as their hands darted over each other, fondling and caressing urgently. Finally with a growl he said, "I feel so hot. Like I'm boiling."

"Yes, me as well." After she spoke, her tongue teased his into her mouth and he groaned at the temptation.

Skimming the shirt off him, she traced her fingers over the bruises and tiny scratches that littered his chest, shoulders and arms. Bits and pieces of last night came to her as her hands worked over the marks.

"My dream," she said, breaking their embrace.

And as if recalling a vision that had been out of her grasp all day, she began to speak as if in a trance.

_I dreamt last night. I dreamt that I came into your room naked, wanting to seduce you. You were drowsy with sleep and you denied me. I couldn't hear your thoughts …. But, I needed you – I needed your touch and your soul, so I entered your mind … stirring it. I showed you things you've wanted to see … things you've yearned to see for so long: images of my mouth kissing down past your stomach … images of us together at sunrise in the Grand Canyon … images of you crouched behind me draped over my back and holding my hip, sweaty with a pink flush to your cheek. _

_It awoke you, but you were still tired. I needed for you to shake off your weariness. I needed you … your touch … your mind. _

_My eyes were flame. My heart was flame. _

_I worshipped you, taking you into my mouth – all of your flesh. Kissing it. Flicking my tongue against you to tease and taunt your skin. You moaned for me to stop, but your body begged for me to continue. Like a beast I sunk my teeth into you and tore at your flesh. You were gasping for air, groaning my name in whispers – your hair was wet and your skin was moist. And for a moment, I couldn't tell if your sweat was caused because I had suckled that spot and left it raw, because you were weeping with pleasure or because you were sweating. _

_Oh, your mind … your mind was weeping with pleasure. It begged me to continue. It pleaded with me to end the temptation. Your skin was slick and ready. _

_As your body succumbed to me, you asked to make love to me. But I wouldn't let you. I wanted to bring _you _to bliss. _

_So, I took you. As you arched your back with pleasure, I raked my nails over your flesh and pounded my skin against yours. The small shivers that overcame me at first felt like freedom … it cooled me. But the burning came back so quickly. It raged in my like a furnace. I wanted you again and you took me to the next plateau … you brought me there so fast. _

_Slipping into the sublime I rode waves of passion for what seemed like hours as you touched more of me than I could ever remember. I begged for more, pleaded and you gave it to me – your face red and eyes hot with fire. As I twisted against your frame and muttered your name, the burning was dowsed and my body became malleable and limp. You bucked against me. Your voice was hoarse and incoherent. You were so weary and your eyes held questions and sleep. _

_Reason snuck into my brain. Mathematics. Science. It warred against the inferno. _

_As you fell into a slumber, I left you and our bed lest I take you again even in your sleep. _

Waking from the memory, she saw Jonathan's eyes on her. They were ablaze with desire – the pupils expanding to the rims of his irises. His lips were slightly parted, his cheeks were pink and his chest panted.

With a husky voice he said, "That's what happened last night."

Batting her eyes with vulnerability, she whispered her words. "I … I want to take you like that again."

Wrapping his arms around her, he picked her up despite the ache and cradled her to his chest. "I want that, too."

He stalked off into her bedroom, feeling his blood begin to simmer and boil. When she'd mentioned the burning, he'd in recalled something in back of his mind … something reminded him that he'd vowed to take her to a doctor.

_This isn't right. Stop!_

_Her voice answered in his mind, echoing: This _is _right. If you stop, I will surely die from this heat. Extinguish this flame._

Tearing at her clothes in a frenzy as her hands trembled to do the same to him, he pushed her onto the bed. Their tongues and hands madly pushed and pulled at the other. Instead of kissing her neck, he bit it – harder than he intended, but she didn't whimper; she gasped with delight and gripped her fingertips into his body until her nails dug into his skin. Fighting each other, they fell into a disarray of limbs, frantically moving against the other. He grunted and growled like a wolf catching the scent of prey as her moaning filled the room.

_Water rushed everywhere spilling over its banks and past the shoreline. Churning, tumbling and turning it crashed against anything in its path. Building in force, gathering in intensity, like a hurricane it smacked and ravaged the land – drowning everything in its wake. He was fury and the water boiled and bubbled as if agitated. _

_In response the earth whipped and swirled – throwing particles everywhere in its path, creating tornadoes that spun miles toward the sky. Twisting and shaking the ground, the columns howled as sand pelted the heavens turning the sky red with clay. She was the desert. She was bedlam. _

_They collided with each other, attacking, mixing and combining until there was no telling where was sand and where was water. No beginning and no ending. Frightening. Terrible. Magnificent. Waterspouts and dust devils dueled, falling into a lover's embrace – frenzied and awesome. _

_It was turmoil. Chaos. Creation. And it disassembled into chaos again – with the waters rising and the sand storming – again and again. Pounding and attacking, it seemed there would be no finish … the chaos and creation would happen again … and again … and again. _

T'Pol's eyes were blinded by darkness. And, with one final scream, the image was gone. The image … the burning … the drive to mate until her body was exhausted.

Looking into his eyes, she watched him join her in tranquility, his body shuddering powerfully as if on the edge of destruction.

Barely able to catch his breath, he said in a gravely voice that rang with confusion more than anger -- "What the hell -- "

Licking her lips, she saw the clock. Somehow, three hours had disappeared. The specifics on their mating, and that's what it was, were driven from her mind. All she knew was that she was satisfied and for the moment cooled. Her weary lips moved at an achingly slow pace.

"Jonathan, I think you were correct."

Still panting, he rolled off to her side. Although he was weary, he slid his arm around her waist and traced his finger down to the slop of her leg.

"What's that?" he asked.

Pulling her into him, he noted his exhausted – the kind where he could sleep for days. He was more tired than he'd ever been … or could ever remember being. Intertwining her legs with his, he kissed her cheek and began to feel his body beg for sleep.

"I believe I'm undergoing my mating cycle," she whispered.

Even as she said the words, "mating cycle" he felt part of his body respond and the other part rebel and complain.

With only a whisper left in him, he said, "I thought you had until your next birthday?"

"I don't know what to think. But, I should tell Sovok. This might change everything."

So sleepy, he couldn't even keep his eyes open, he said directly into her ear, as his lips barely moved, a few words that made her tingle.

"I love you, T'Pol."

After than moment, she could feel his chest rise and fall against her back.

"I love you, too," she whispered into the air, hoping it made its way into his dreams.


	9. Part 9

T'Pol stayed under the water longer than she should've, but it was warm and her body was shivering. Ironically she became cold the moment she left her bed.

_Strange._

She expected the madness of Pon Farr to be ugly and sordid – her emotions uncontrollable and flailing in all directions. Thus far, there were moments of insanity, but there was also overwhelming sensuality; her emotions were sometimes beyond containment, but never overtly so. There were only moments, like when she made outbursts regarding Jonathan's safety to V'Lin, where she felt her emotional control eking away.

_My emotions are not beyond containment _yet

_Yet _is what bothered her most.

Looking back on the past two weeks give or take a few days, she wondered if her body had been calling out to Jonathan, asking for relief even without her knowledge. Their bond had formed within this timeframe; it didn't seem out of the realm of possibility. But, it seemed odd a human would sense this change in her system. He had done everything she would ask in a mate: satisfy her, care for her, protect her, be there even when she believed he was unnecessary ….

Almost smiling, she thought about him and shivered again, despite the hot water pelting her body.

_I would welcome his arms around me. _

As if summoned, Archer lazily stepped into the shower, his eyes sleepy and his hair askew. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her for a few moments.

"How long was I asleep?"

She covered his lips with hers and then retreated from his embrace. "Three hours."

Nodding, he brushed his thumb against her cheek. Although he was up, he could've easily slept another three hours … maybe longer…. His arms, legs, mind and even fingers were weary, begging for more rest. Hell, even his tongue was pooped.

_Why did I get out of bed?_

And then he remembered: her voice called him. Like a whisper it came into his dream and gently roused him, nudging his brain and encouraging him to join her. It was weird that he obeyed it like a command. Perhaps their bond was deepening.

_Deepening? T'Pol raised her eyebrow at his thought. It's a possibility._

Watching her tremble again, he petted the side of her face. "You okay?"

"Yes," she said. As he stretched, she thought about his aches and pains; climbing the mountain and then diving into frantic embrace must've been taxing on his system.

"I'm all right, too." Taking a deep breath, which he decided also smarted, he rolled his head around his neck.

"Maybe I can help you tonight."

"Tonight? Mmmm. That sounds nice."

She kissed his neck and suddenly backed away noting a bruise about the size of her mouth planted near his Adam's apple. In fact, staring at him, she noted more scrapes and bruises … as if his body had been rolled down a hill and onto a thorny bush.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, thinking Sovok would see the evidence of their mating and become offended.

"Nah. I'll put ice on it," he said as she inspected him. Although his teeth and tongue had worked at her skin, she showed no signs of it.

"Jonathan, your bites weren't as … forceful."

Through their bond, he raised his eyebrows wondering if she was disappointed.

"No, not disappointed. I'm concerned I hurt you."

Waving her comment away, he answered. "It's not your fault."

Her eyes fell to the bottom of the shower, unconvinced.

_I enjoyed it, he thought, giving her a wink. _

She was ashamed to admit she did as well.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. Everything seemed pretty … errr … natural."

After rubbing noses with her for a moment and touching mouths briefly, he saw her face grow serious.

"I … don't wish to harm you. Rather, I don't wish to harm you any further."

"I don't think you will."

Running her hand along his cheek and touching the cut on his lip, she shook her head. "People have died in the throws of Pon Farr. It is rare, but it does happen. The madness is, I understand, overwhelming."

"I doubt that you would …."

"Logic leaves us entirely."

Pon Farr. The time of mating. T'Pol didn't know much of the symptoms but even she knew a few solid facts: Vulcans lost all control, other Vulcans were bound to help those who were burning with the blood fever (including mating with friends … sometimes strangers) and if the blood fever wasn't abated she would die.

_Chronicled in the events of Surak's life, she read even he was bound to the fire that burned within. The father of Vulcan logic had his mind ripped away from him once every seven years. In a vain attempt to control the mating fever, he had his followers lock him in a cell with a square box that looked into his room. Added to his ankles and wrists were chains and cuffs so thick he would never be able to break them. As they shackled him, he made them promise to let him die before they would remove the restraints. As his disciples gave an unwitting pledge, Surak motioned his head to Rama, his most trusted friend. _

_"T'Pana will want to come and help me," he said. "You must not release me. I believe through rigorous self-discipline I can overcome Pon Farr." _

_"No one has ever cooled the fires." _

_"I must attempt. If Vulcans can overcome pain, fear and anger … as well as this need to mate, our species will be better off." _

_"But, your wife and I are friends. She will suffer. You know she will burn with a slight fever for you. And no doubt her care for you will drive her here." _

_"She can control her desires. I have explained the circumstances and have her support." _

_"She is a … stubborn woman." _

_"Yes," he said, almost with a smile. "All the more reason I ask you. You are … equally stubborn." _

_The woman's eyes turned warm as if to laugh. "You have my vow." _

_The first two days, Surak did the impossible – he stayed in his cell and quietly meditated the fever away. It took every ounce of control including straining his reserves, something that Rama would notice only by the sweat pouring off his forehead and the slight trembling of his body. _

_By the third day, the weakened man slipped into some sort of unconsciousness and begged to be released. As he feared, T'Pana fled to the door demanding he be set free, but Rama barred her entrance. _

_"I have taken a vow. I cannot let you help him." _

_Although the two women argued, logically and without raising their voices, T'Pana withdrew, ignoring her bondmates cries. Her husband had asked to conduct this experiment, and she would let him see it through until his pleas became so desperate that he would die without her aid. By her estimation, he had a little while longer. _

_The fourth day, Surak's voice became angrier as he described in broken sentences and forgotten words what he needed – his voice dripping with lust; it was hoarse and alluring. Again, T'Pana wanted to free him and again Rama pulled her away. Again the two women exchanged words, more heatedly, but again T'Pana withdrew; she knew he had more time … even if it wasn't much. _

_By the fifth day, his blood was burning, eating away at his organs. His voice was quiet and weak, pleading for his bondmate to come to him. _

_"My wife, you must give yourself to me. Satisfy my desires or else you condemn me to this emotional hell!" _

_T'Pana called to him through the door. "My love, Rama will not let me enter." _

_"My eyes are flame. My heart is flame. My blood boils for thee. I want to touch your hair, your cheek, your throat …." _

_Rama turned her head, ignoring man and wife speak like lovers. _

_"You have asked her to keep a promise." T'Pana knew it was useless to reason with him, his mind felt like chaos and his body was sweating. Even her own body, because she was bonded to him, burned. _

_"I have told her a thousand times over she must break the pledge!" he yelled to the point of becoming hoarse. _

_T'Pana's eyes fell onto Rama. "He needs me. He's weak – near death." _

_Rama furrowed her brow and stared at the ground. "I have given him my word. He does this for the benefit of all Vulcan." _

_As Surak heard these words his grunts and shouts drowned out all noise. Curses and damnations fell from his lips, leveled at anyone in hearing distance. _

_T'Pana after hearing his badgering and belligerent words, turned to Rama. "His mind has vanished. Surak is a great man, but he cannot out logic his biology … what makes him Vulcan and male. It would be as frivolous as training the mind to bring a child to a barren womb. Call off this bit of foolishness and let me bring his suffering to an end." _

_Rama watched him rattle his chains, bedlam marking his once steely features. In his fury, he had bitten his own lip, letting the blood trickle down his chin and onto his neck. His hair was wet with perspiration and his eyes were like fire – hot and ablaze with rage. _

_"The mind, Surak has proven, can reduce pain." _

_"He can mitigate it, but not remove it. He has proven he can reduce the affects of Pon Farr, but he cannot will them away. _That _is illogical." _

_Shaking her head, she agreed. Staring on his figure with worry, Rama whispered, "He will perish if he does not have your aid." _

_T'Pana watched the woman compute the equation for the appropriate course of action and knew the underlying problem was the woman's word. _

_"You would not be lying if you gave the key to me. And I set him free." _

_She raised her eyebrow and said, "That is not obeying the spirit of the promise." Fishing out a key, she handed it to T'Pana and finished her sentence. "However, it _is_ obeying the letter of it." _

_With nearly a sigh of relief, T'Pana snatched the key and opened the door. As soon as she did, Rama's words rang in her ears. _

_"Be careful. He is highly agitated and to settle his fever, he may become violent." _

_Without care for her own life, she approached her husband. "I am here, beloved. Your burning has called to me." _

_As soon as he was released, he fell onto her roughly – his tongue, lips and fingers attacking her with delight. Rama decided the best thing to do would be to close the door and allow them some privacy, hanging her robe over the cut out in the door as she heard his growling. _

_Three days after, Surak was well enough to stand in front of those he mentored. Wryly his eyes darted to T'Pana. Both suffered the typical signs of mating – claw marks, small bruises and tiny welts. It was to be expected and wasn't met with embarrassment. _

_"My wife has taught me there's logic in listening to the call of Pon Farr. And I have learned from my dearest friend that a Vulcan's pledge to help those in the fever is stronger than any other vow." _

_Rama blinked quickly and added a few words without hesitation. "Except those vows of marriage, which ultimately saved you." _

_A few of the newer students laughed as Surak raised his eyebrow with a twinkle in his eye. As the room became quiet, he turned serious again. _

_"Possibly even stronger than those of marriage. We cannot deny what makes us Vulcan – we are at its mercy. It is powerful – the blood fever … the need is too great to ignore. It is … frightening to be at emotions' whim. Logic abandons you and nothing but passion fills your mind, destroying all you hold sacred. T'Pana came to me, but I would've taken any woman – crushed her mouth to mine. The need. I would have killed for it." _

_His followers stared on, shaken and the father of logic became quiet – purging his mind from the dread. _

_He whispered into the wind, "Dying that death, would be ugly. I would not wish it on anyone." _

Archer listened to the thoughts in her head, watching the scene come alive almost in front of his eyes.

"Surak couldn't control the urges. No Vulcan can. And I would take you, crush you or any man to my mouth to satisfy the urges."

"T'Pol …."

"If the father of Vulcan logic could not restrain himself, no Vulcan can. The want …."

"Yes, I can sometimes feel your desire. You indicated T'Pana felt his … longing?"

"Yes. You are my mate. You burn for me as my body is aflame for you."

That was definitely true. "The madness. Will it affect me?"

"I don't know."

"But, you'll get worse?"

"Yes."

"How much worse?"

Leveling her eyes at him, she spoke the word slowly. "Much."

* * *

T'Pol landed the shuttle in front of Sovok's house and she took a deep breath. Their visit to Valara's house was easy compared to what was in store tonight. And … she was five minutes late.

Vulcans are never late.

"You can blame it on me," he said, trying to ease her concern. "Are you going to tell them about …?"

"It is not something easily discussed. After dinner, I'll tell them of my condition."

"Can you hold out that long? I've been feeling … waves of lust."

"I can withstand the burning that long."

About to hop out, she looked at him and over the makeup on his neck to hide his hickey. He was the reason they were late – that wasn't exactly be a lie; it was difficult to find the right shade to successfully cover up the mark. Her only salvation was that he had a sunburn that covered parts of him – his nose, shoulders, chin, forehead and neck. The shade of her rogue mixed with her bronze-green foundation, seemed to do the trick and made her lust invisible to the naked eye.

As the two walked out of the shuttle, V'Lin came to greet them, giving them the Vulcan sign of greeting.

"You're late," the aunt said.

"My fault," Archer said. "Sorry."

V'Lin's eyes focused on T'Pol wondering about the lecherous gazes she and Archer exchanged earlier. "I see. Well, come in. Dinner has been waiting on you."

T'Pol led the way, bowing deeply as she entered. "My uncle, you honor me with your presence."

Archer bowed as well, but looked up only briefly to see a man whose expression was so dour that it made Soval look like he was smiling and laughing. His eyes were a dark gray – bland and passive, his hair was dark gray and his pallor was ashen-green – everything about him made him appear more … Vulcan. The corners of his mouth were turned down by centimeters in the most emotionless disgust.

The house itself was grand, but sparse. Unlike T'Pol's house, few decorations were hung – no tapestries, no artwork – the walls were completely bare. Not only were they bare, they seemed a particular shade of sandstone that projected sterility. The furniture was boring – only the most contemporary pieces in perfect lines without the twists and turns that mimicked the Vulcan runes that made up their written language. The throw pillows on the floor were all dark green and had no embroidery or interesting markings.

Utilitarian. Functional. Everything about Sovok and his dwelling was plain.

Sovok finally spoke. "T'Pol, it is has been many years. Seven point two, I believe to be exact."

As Archer looked up, he gathered Sovok was always exact.

"You must be the Earthling."

"My name is Jonathan Archer," he said. "It's good to meet you Sovok."

"Archer." Sovok eyed him. "You are older than I expected."

Giving a slight frown, he said, "I'm only 43."

"Are you? Interesting," Sovok said. By lifting two fingers slowly in the air, his wife seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"My wife, Saaya," he said.

Saaya was a beautiful woman, elegant and tall. Her hair was streaked with silver against a dark brown background. She was bronze as if she worshipped the sun and it returned the adoration. Devoid of frills – no makeup, no flecks in her robes or satin finish to her garments, something about her seemed as if she'd always wanted to divulge in luxuries, but had given that up the indulgence a long time ago.

Arranged marriages, T'Pol thought as Archer nodded in understanding at the message.

Archer bowed to her as T'Pol spoke up.

"Saaya, I am pleased you are well. Last I left Vulcan, you were ill."

The woman seemed gracious and spoke softly as if she'd been silenced most of her life. "I am well. Thank you for keeping me in your thoughts."

Sovok spoke. "My children were unable to come tonight. They are all attending Kolinahr … as they do every year." Turning his eyes toward T'Pol, he added, "Emotions are a disgrace to Vulcans."

Providing a steely look in exchange, she didn't back down.

A Vulcan, who looked to be the equivalent of 30 human years caught Archer's eye. The young man was handsome – black hair and equally black eyes. He, like most Vulcans, was tall and lanky and seemed to tower over even Archer. A growl nearly worked its way out of Jonathan's throat; it was the need to protect what was his: his mate.

"This is Korin, Rama's bondmate."

Korin, like a man transfixed, stared at T'Pol as Archer stepped in front of her to hide her from his view.

Meanwhile, V'Lin watched on with interest. It seemed Korin was reacting to T'Pol's scent, just as she suspected he might. It meant her niece was most likely in Pon Farr. Rather than stop the scene, she allowed it to continue, keeping a close eye on Korin, T'Pol and Archer. She was particularly interested in the captain's response to the challenge.

"T'Pol, I'm pleased to see you," Korin said in Vulcan.

She returned a reply. "It is agreeable to see you. It has been some time."

"Bondmate? Are you married then?" Archer asked, scooting toward T'Pol.

Korin shook his head, slightly. "No, Rama and I are promised to each other. We have not been wed, which means our union has not been formalized."

"Where _is _Rama?" Archer asked.

"V'Lin was good enough to ask me to come. I didn't realize Rama wouldn't be here."

V'Lin saw T'Pol's cheeks flush green and both Korin and Archer notice it, parting their lips in a pant.

"We were childhood friends," Korin explained. "In fact, as children, T'Pol and I were _inseparable_."

Archer's brow furrowed and his lip curled up momentarily in a sneer. "Huh."

Saaya pointed near the table and asked for everyone to sit down. Arranging everyone, almost like an Earth woman might, she placed T'Pol and Korin together at one side of the table, she and her husband at opposite ends and seated Archer next to V'Lin.

V'Lin eyed the young people from time to time, and every once in a while she would catch Korin watching T'Pol and Archer spying on Korin. As the dinner progressed, the captain's knuckles became whiter and whiter as he gripped his utensils with more ferocity all the while Korin's eye gleamed with something akin to lust.

Suddenly breaking through the tense silence, Archer finally sniped.

"Stop staring at her and look at your meal!"

Korin dropped his spoon with something near anger, furrowing his eyebrows. "She is not yours."

"Oh, yes she is."

Both men stood as V'Lin interjected as quickly as possible: "It is as I suspected. Korin, I do not wish to be rude, but I think you should leave."

Suddenly the entire dinner party rose to their feet. Sovok placed his hands in his robes, his face devoid of any emotion, waiting for the logic of the situation to come to light.

Korin shook his head. "I cannot leave." His gaze fell on T'Pol. "Something is asking me to stay. Her?"

V'Lin tapped her finger to her chin, thinking T'Pol's scent was stronger than she anticipated.

Archer snarled back at him. "I said she's mine."

"Stop it," T'Pol said loud enough to cause both men to pause momentarily. As if by instinct, she scooted a little closer to Archer.

"T'Pol?" V'Lin asked. "One must leave – Jonathan or Korin. Whom would you choose?"

"I do not understand."

Archer spoke up as if on her behalf. "She chooses me."

V'Lin prompted T'Pol again. "Which one?"

Quietly, she said, "I want Jonathan to stay."

V'Lin waddled to Korin and said, sternly. "You have done your Vulcan duty."

A little triumphant, Archer puffed out his chest as if he was the winner and produced a mild smile – cocky and secure.

With a troubled brow, Korin gave a simple bow. "I do not understand. I did not wish to offend. I am uncertain what came over me."

Sovok said, not entirely convincingly, "No offense is taken where no emotion exists."

The younger Vulcan turned and exited. The moment the door closed, T'Pol wheeled on Jonathan. Instead of responding verbally, he grabbed her arm and stared into her eyes; it held Vulcan fire and dominance.

As Sovok was about to address the rudest alien, Archer, he would ever have the displeasure of meeting, V'Lin answered what was on everyone's mind.

"T'Pol, you are in the Pon Farr aren't you?"

Licking her lips, she turned her eyes to the ground. "Yes, I believe so."

"I think you are," V'Lin said. "Your outbursts this morning, the gaze you held with Jonathan, Korin's reaction – to help you in your fires without knowing you suffered, Jonathan's reaction to you now. It must be the mating cycle."

Sovok, even for a man with no emotion, nearly rolled his eyes. "V'Lin, you should have told me. It is dangerous for an unmarried man to see T'Pol during this time."

V'Lin shook her head. "It was an easy way to determine whether she was in her mating cycle and at the same time gauge Jonathan's reaction. I believe they hear each other's voice. It's why he responded as her protector and champion."

"I told you our minds speak as one," T'Pol said.

"It appears you are correct. But, T'Pol, it appears your mother died too young and left you naïve. Welcoming the stares of an unmarried Vulcan is disaster."

"I heard this was true, but did not realize the extent or how easily a Vulcan man would be allured."

Saaya, spoke, her voice wispy like the Vulcan air. "It is a Vulcan's duty to assist in another's Pon Farr. Even if he had been a stranger, he would be attracted to your scent and heat. There is much you should learn. You seem ignorant."

"Ignorance is no excuse," Sovok claimed. He folded his arms across his chest. "However, this certainly changes the situation. Archer did act as her champion and T'Pol has no betrothal because of a careless act two years ago."

T'Pol was about to refute that, when Sovok opened his mouth again.

"Does Archer know of his responsibility to you?"

"Yes."

"What the hell's going on?" Archer asked. Bewildered, frustrated and angry, his face turned pink and wrinkles sprouted all over his face.

V'Lin gave a small, but perceptible, frown. "Saaya and I will talk with T'Pol to confirm what she says. Perhaps, Sovok, you can explain to Jonathan what is happening and … discuss his role for the next few days."

As Sovok was about to object, the three women glided across the room and wandered into the corridor out of visual range. The two men barely heard a door shut.

She's mine. They did not ask my approval before taking her.

Sovok turned up his nose at his unfinished dinner. Crouching down, he perched himself on one of the uninteresting pillows that adorned the ground.

"T'Pol and her family have always caused disturbances. My brother was matched unwisely. His wife was and her siblings are … shall we say … unconventional?"

The human scowled.

"Sit." It wasn't a request and for some reason the captain stubbornly obeyed it.

"Vulcans do not discuss the Pon Farr with off-worlders, Archer. But, it appears you are already involved. You are never to mention what we discuss here with anyone outside this family. Do you understand?"

There was a lot he didn't understand.

With more authority, Sovok asked again. "Do I have your word?"

"I understand," he said, snapping. "You have my word."

"What do you know about the time of mating?"

Wanting to pace the room, he shifted on the pillow, squirming. "T'Pol will need to mate for a period of time."

Sovok waited for a few minutes and hid surprise. "That is all?"

"She said there was a … madness that occurs. She also indicated if she didn't mate she could face death. She said Vulcans sometimes kill in the … errr madness."

Pointing his fingers under his chin, forming a temple, the Vulcan closed his eyes and recounted what every boy or girl knows as they enter the rites of adulthood.

"The ebb and flow of Vulcan life is based on logic, reason, passivity and the suppression of emotion. The Pon Farr violates everything we know to be Vulcan and holds us at its beck and call until it leaves us. Ironic that it is necessary for us to live and sustain our way of life."

The captain seemed nonplussed. "T'Pol told me of Surak's insanity during this time."

"As a human, you have little appreciation for this dilemma. Imagine everything you hold dear to be torn and ripped from you …. Envision that you are a slave to your basest urges, satisfying them until you are weak and trembling. No Vulcan can ever be prepared."

Archer listened, but didn't seem to grasp the complexity. Sovok decided to take the next logical step. Holding his hand steady over the psi-points of the captain's face, he asked almost as if the answer wasn't important.

"You will permit me?"

When Archer gave a single head nod, Sovok's elongated fingers pressed down on his face. Darkness enveloped his eyes and he began to chant the ancient words the captain had only heard T'Pol say.

"My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts."

The two were one.

* * *

Saaya and V'Lin walked to a room out of the range of Sovok and Archer. Almost as if it was a mystical ceremony, Saaya lit candles and incense to scent the room.

V'Lin sat on the guest bed and patted the place next to her.

"T'Pol, you will forgive me, but as one of the proctors of the challenge I must ascertain whether this is the Pon Farr."

"You indicated you knew this to be true," T'Pol whispered.

"I must _confirm _it," V'Lin shot back.

Shyly, T'Pol agreed and seated herself next to her aunt.

V'Lin rubbed her hands together and then wiggled her fingers before touching her niece's face. Almost immediately, the old woman felt the rush of fire – the kind that embodied passion. It was intense and almost prompted her to break free, but she persisted.

_Flame. Flame as hot as the magma that bubbled in Mt. Setal. The pressure was building … and building … and the lava rising toward the top. Although it did not threaten to overflow it was near its peak, almost ready to explode and send fire in all directions. The flame was desire and it yearned to break free. _

_Bedlam had not yet set in, but reason occasionally eluded her. Her memory would come and go, tricking her into thinking she was well and then it would lure her into the inferno … to be consumed. _

_She burned. _

V'Lin's thoughts rang out through the air and in T'Pol's mind. "I feel the fire, T'Pol. The burning has only started. It is newly kindled, but your body has simmered for the past two weeks. It caused you to attempt to further suppress your emotions, all of them, trapping them."

"Yes."

"When you reached Vulcan … with him … your body urged you to capitulate. Having his mind intertwine with you prompted you to seek refuge with him."

"Yes," she whispered.

"You have chosen him to relieve you of the fire."

"Yes."

"You are aflame for him and him alone. Korin did not stir you. No other man does."

"I burn for Jonathan alone."

"Then your path is clear."

V'Lin's hands fell away from the young Vulcan's face. "You must take him to your bed as your mate until the fever passes."

Hearing the words, "take him to bed" caused her to shiver. _Yes, I want him_.

"He is not Vulcan, so his body will not be set ablaze with the same intensity as yours. And in the days to come, you will need … intensity."

Without meaning to, T'Pol said, "He is always intense."

V'Lin raised her eyebrow, a little shocked at the confession.

Saaya spoke so quietly the words barely registered. "What can we do to prevent her from killing him in the frenzy?" When both V'Lin and T'Pol turned their heads to her, she explained herself. "Humans are not as strong as Vulcans."

"We can leave Jonathan with restraints," V'Lin said.

T'Pol puckered her brow, but didn't object. At least once a year someone on Vulcan died during the mating ritual. It was the only action of murder, other than the kal'i'fee that was allowed without prosecution.

"Listen to me," V'Lin said. "It is important you indulge your lust as soon as the emotion comes upon you. Do not wait or be stingy, give in. Your life … and his depends on it."

"Yes."

"It seems, by the way he tried to spar with Korin, that he is heeding your call. Do not restrain your voice when speaking to his mind and do not allow his mind to fall mute. Keeping a connection between you is imperative."

The youngest of the three Vulcans shook her head. "I have kept that link open to the best of my abilities. I have learned the … consequences of having his thoughts to me and mine to his impeded."

V'Lin then drew up her mouth in a bow and risked a quick look to Saaya before leveling her eyes at her niece. "Do not become embarrassed of anything you do or say during this time. Your mouth and body speak and act without reason."

T'Pol blinked. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

And then the aunt said something almost so low that the other women weren't sure she said it. "This experience can be … pleasurable if you allow it to be."

"Pardon me?" Saaya asked.

Then V'Lin said with a little more conviction, "Saaya, I know you conceived the twins during your first mating cycle. I assume there was some enjoyment from that experience?"

Saaya's eyes went wide, and then with only a flick of her elegant brow, she said, "Sovok says enjoyment is an emotion. However … I have … experienced … that emotion."

T'Pol, instead of listening to her aunts engage in what might be 'Vulcan humor,' settled on something disturbing. She asked what had really been on her mind.

"What happens with the challenge? Will you approve of him as my bondmate?"

"The challenge will continue when your … fever has dissipated."

"Even after our physical union and the deepening of our bond, you would deny me?"

Saaya spoke up for V'Lin, saying what must've been on her aunt's mind. "We do not know if it will deepen, T'Pol. Pon Farr may've forced a union that would not be there."

"_That_ is illogical. I know it has intensified."

"Vulcans and species from other worlds are rarely able to …."

T'Pol almost frowned. "The only advice you have for me is how and when to be pleasured?"

V'Lin furrowed her brow. "We're trying to help you save your life."

"I think only Jonathan can help do that."

With sadness in her eyes, V'Lin tried to explain herself. "We're not attempting to make this difficult for you …."

"Surely you have seen his strength of character, protection and care for me. What more must you see to approve of our relationship?"

V'Lin said, "Only one thing really."

The younger Vulcan raised her brows, waiting for a response, but received none. Trying to ignore the desire building in her, her eyes met the floor. As her cheeks held a dark green, V'Lin must've noticed what was wrong.

"You need him."

T'Pol nodded only slightly. "It was foolish to come tonight. I wished to tell Sovok in person. I didn't think he'd believe me."

V'Lin shook her head. "I was unsure you knew the flame was alive within you. Our men are set ablaze quickly, but we women are slowly consumed by fire." Pausing she looked at the bed. "I grieve that I caused you embarrassment."

Turning her eyes to her aunt, she allowed them to shine. "You could never disgrace me."

* * *

Sovok closed his eyes and fell into Archer's mind. Even through the link, the captain could feel the Vulcan's mild disgust at the joining.

_Chaos the voice said._

Sovok spoke aloud, confirming what T'Pol had already indicated. "Yes, the burning. It is there … but not as strong as a Vulcan's."

Bizarre images flooded Archer's mind. They were visions of insanity – male Vulcans fighting … armed with something that resembled speared, but with a fanned blade at one end and an anvil at the other; Vulcan women crawling on the floor begging for sex – their cheeks and lips darkened to the color of summer leaves; and men and women biting each other hard enough to draw blood and then smiling, engrossed in pleasure.

"Our minds are ripped away from us," Sovok said. "It causes the mating to become fierce and sometimes gruesome."

Suddenly the images were gone and Sovok's hands joined his side. The captain panted. "I didn't know …."

"Yes, the want can be overwhelming."

Archer only nodded in agreement.

"Our society is based on two roles. It is the role of the Vulcan male to satisfy and dominate. It is the role of the Vulcan female to allure and submit. These roles are more important during the mating process and will help you to both survive. Do you understand my meaning?"

"I think so."

"T'Pol will ask you to satisfy her many times over, and you must – or she will die. Do you think you can gratify her?"

Feeling like his health teacher was explaining the birds and the bees to him, he shied away only slightly. "Does T'Pol need … to … errr … become … well … pregnant?"

"No," he said with near distaste. "But, it is vital she receive your biological matter."

He blinked several times over. _Biological matter? _

"Do you understand me?" Sovok asked. "I am referring to your –"

"Yes, I understand."

"Do you think you can do this for her?"

Grabbing at his collar, he nodded his head. "I think so."

"You must be certain. Vulcan males can produce large amounts of this matter in a short amount of time."

Archer's eyes widened and he gave a slight cough. "How … much … does … she … need?"

"She may require you as many as twenty times in one day."

His jaw came unhinged. _What?! _

"Thankfully, it only lasts seven days."

_Twenty times every day for seven days?!! _

"Is your human anatomy not up to the task? We could ask Korin or another unmarried male to assist."

_Korin?! _"No. She's mine." _Mine? _

"Yes, you understand. You claim her because you burn for her. Those who have a connection are thrust into the other's mating ritual. Her body and mind call out to you."

"Yes." It was confusing why he "owned" T'Pol. That certainly wasn't something he'd thought before … not until he reached the planet, but the words struck a chord: it was the truth.

"When a woman's fever is high, it can be quite … taxing. By confirming your interest, you are promising to keep her alive."

Archer stared ahead. "Fever?"

"It is called the plak-tow. And when she enters that phase, the mating will be chaotic and frenzied. You may lose track of the days. You must help her no matter how weary you are, and you will be quite tired. Even Vulcans find this exhausting."

"You … lose track of … days?"

"That is correct. She will be more alluring than she has ever seemed to you – radiant, her hair glowing and her scent intoxicating. Even more than now."

_Lose track of days?! _

"Since you are committed to seeing this through, perhaps V'Lin can supply you with food and drink. However, there will be little opportunity to eat. Sometimes the mating lasts nearly a day without stop."

"Without stop?"

"Yes. And she may provide restraints. T'Pol could kill you in the mating throws."

"Uhm …."

"Do you have any questions of me?"

Archer sat, stunned, wondering what to say when T'Pol appeared with her aunts. The women looked like girls at a prep school dance, huddled together sharing the secrets of the universe with only each other … their gender. Meanwhile, the boys looked serious as Archer tried to recover from the shock of everything he'd been told.

T'Pol leaned over to his ear. "We need to return home."

Sovok stood. "We are finished. T'Pol shut yourself in your house and do not come out until the need has passed." Shooting his eyebrow into his forehead, he said, "We do not need a repeat of our dinner where Korin was attracted to your scent."

"I will shut myself inside."

Both Archer and T'Pol rose and headed to the door. His feet almost stumbled with bafflement as hers quickly tapped against the tiled floor; she needed him home quickly.

V'Lin, as if to comfort him, said, "Jonathan, I will come by tomorrow with stimulants, food and restra … and other things to assist you."

"Uhm, all right."

"She'll reach her," she looked at Sovok and chose her words carefully "zenith in most likely two days. We should arrange for a doctor to see you the next day."

"I have a ship's physician." _He'd only be too happy to be involved with this. _

"Good. He must see only you. Keep T'Pol out of sight … although it seems you already have that instinct."

T'Pol grabbed his hand and tugged him outside. _My mother's sister and father's brother's wife tell me that I should give in when I feel the earliest sign. I need you, aisha._

"If you are unable to give her your biological matter, contact me immediately. I will arrange for someone to help her," Sovok added as the two scrambled for the shuttle.

_Oh, God._

"Good night," said Saaya.

"I believe the phrase – good luck is appropriate?" V'Lin asked.

Archer nodded and climbed into the shuttle. T'Pol seemingly sprinted into it, began the protocols and made a hasty departure.

Sovok's face turned stoic and his eyebrow curled as the vehicle sped away. Saaya watched her husband's face and spoke in Vulcan. "Do you think they will survive?"

"Unknown."

Saaya added very quietly a few words. "V'Lin, you did not tell T'Pol the chances of him being able to satisfy her were small. Even Vulcan males have difficulty accommodating the demands of a Vulcan woman."

V'Lin suppressed a smile. "I spent this afternoon reading about human physiology. Would it surprise you to know the human male's can … satisfy more than a Vulcan?"

Saaya raised both eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"It appears humans engage in this activity more often."

Saaya spoke again. "I had no idea."

"Besides, I believe Archer, despite his jealousy, would allow Korin to help her." V'Lin shook her head, looking down at her feet. "I fear for him. She is stronger and to allure him may accidentally cause him serious damage. I hope they heed our warning and give in quickly."

Saaya sighed. "Indeed."

"Still. I have yet to see a relationship like theirs since … well, the two of you were young."

"The night is late. Your presence was not as unnecessary as I once thought it to be," Sovok said after a few seconds of silence.

Taking the hint, V'Lin wrapped her purple robes around her and headed for the door. "I will ensure they are cared for until your test, Sovok."

"Acceptable," he said.

Saaya gave the Vulcan greeting as V'Lin returned it and walked away. Her eyes filled with blackness and Saaya swayed to her husband. "This reminds me of my first Pon Farr."

Staring at the door, he folded his arms across his chest. She continued, "We were only bonded a year and my parents loaned us their cottage at Lake Far'har. We were alone. And you, husband, were nervous and protective."

"Anxiety is an emotion. Protective – yes, it is the way of the Vulcan man."

Her finger rubbed the tip of his ear and he spoke to her without emotion. "We are too old to _burn_."

"Burn with the Pon Farr? Yes. Too _old _to burn? I hope not. I hope never."

With the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes, he turned to her. "Mating out of cycle is illogical."

"And so is finding you exceptionally pleasing. And yet the irrational thought is there."

His raised two fingers in the air. "Indeed. Even I have … irrational thoughts."

As their fingers touched, she lured him into their bedroom and whispered into his pointed ear. "Besides our care for each other out of cycle produced Stor and T'Pek."

The Vulcan replied dryly, "Some of our greatest achievements."

"We agree."

"Although I wonder what was more satisfying, the achievement or the path to achievement." His eyes held the smallest of fires and she gathered his hands at her mouth.

"Do not be too hard on T'Pol. It's obvious she cares for him as much as I care for you. And it is most likely as illogical."

"Let us not talk of them. Come to me," he whispered. "I wish to prove our bond is not just logical, but … satisfying."

"Satisfaction is an emotion."

"With my bondmate, I need not hide _every _emotion," he said as he closed the door behind them in case their youngest came home early the next morning.


	10. Part 10

**Two Things Are Certain, Chapter 10**

A/N: Sorry, I didn't think people were awaiting this one! It was already written. This is the last of the "racy" chapters; I think you'll understand why when you read this.

A knock on the door woke him up. And right away his body tried to push itself to alertness to prevent the creature next to him from waking. Rolling wearily out of bed, he struggled to stand, ignoring every bone and muscle in his body screaming to lay back down and rest.

Stiffly he put on a shirt and a pair of pants, hoping the visitor was V'Lin; he could use everything she said he may need – food, stimulants … and more.

Stumbling for the door, he opened it as the Vulcan gave away her surprise.

"Jonathan …."

If she wasn't Vulcan or if he wasn't so tired, he would've hugged her to him.

"You look …," she began.

He didn't care, smiling he looked at what she brought: food! Attempting to take the bags before being shooed away, he invited her in.

Speaking carefully and lowly, she said, "Have you seen yourself in the mirror?"

Wondering if he looked like a leper, he traveled to the mirror in the hallway and stared in with disbelief at the image staring back at him. Bruises covered his neck, dark purple circles hung under his eyes due to lack of sleep and near exhaustion, his lips had been bitten more than a few times (some by himself, but most by her) and tiny bruises formed along his psi points. He looked a fright – embarrassingly so – and it made him think his time with T'Pol last night, actually several times, were more brutal than he initially thought.

"Are you hurt elsewhere?" she asked, hesitantly.

"I … I don't know …."

"Remove your shirt. Let me examine you."

Shying away, he seemed unwilling to take his clothes off. "I'm okay."

"Quickly. Jonathan, my late husband was a doctor. I might be able to help you." Seeing him act with reticence, she reaffirmed. "Quickly."

Slowly, he raised his shirt over his head and held it as her jaw dropped. "Great Surak."

Archer got the idea that was the equivalent of a curse. Risking the touch of a human, she turned him to face the mirror again; his skin was littered with bruises and scratches. It wasn't much worse than the day before; the bruises along is temple were new and frightful.

"It doesn't really hurt," he whispered. As he spoke, his fingers traced the contusions on his face and he winced at the touch.

"Perhaps you should ask your physician to come sooner."

A groan spilled out of the bedroom and his mind came alive with her presence.

V'Lin said, "She may be closer to her zenith than I thought."

As Archer was about to ask her something, she began taking the contents out of her bags and putting them on display.

"Restraints," she said.

With a furrow, he surveyed the material as she set down other items – food, drink and a small medical kit – onto the dining room table.

"You know how to use them?" she asked.

It was obvious she was talking about the restraints, and it forced them to both turn away.

"Yeah," he whispered. The device didn't look too dissimilar to what held T'Pol down to a bio-bed after she'd returned to Enterprise from the Selaya; they were smaller, but used the same Velcro-like substance. He'd have to secure them to the bed and then place them around her hands and feet.

It made him cringe.

"Don't be embarrassed to use them. She could kill you."

Watching his feet, he thought about that information.

"When she's at the height of Pon Farr, when she's in the plak-tow, she won't mean to, but she could crush your skull, the bone structure around her heart, your spine …."

"I understand."

The Vulcan raised her gray eyebrow and drew her lips into a bow. "I doubt Sovok mentioned some of the finesse of your duty? What would help T'Pol?"

Swallowing deeply, he admitted what he knew. "She needs to be satisfied …."

"Did he explain that Vulcan mates bite and claw each other?"

_He didn't have to._

As if reading his mind, she gazed over his features. "I meant, of course, she'll want you to bite and claw her."

He furrowed his brow.

"You won't hurt her. Vulcan's have more epidermal layers – it protects us from the suns that our planet circles. Besides, it is the male in Pon Farr who … dominates."

Shaking his head, his mouth fell open and tried to tell V'Lin that this … all of this … was almost too much to ask of him.

Again, guessing his discomfort, she ran her fingers along the table. "I am glad even on her ship full of humans she found someone who can appreciate her uniqueness." The woman raised her eyebrows, obviously catching some of his compunctions.

"Her … Vulcan-ness is part of the reason I care about her so much," he said.

As a quiet moment fell between them, V'Lin leaned toward him barely, titling her head to the side.

"There is one thing you might try to assist her to eat. Place the food, nes'parah, on your fingers and feed it to her. She's too thin."

"I thought Vulcans didn't like to eat with their hands."

"During the Pon Farr, we find it more … acceptable."

Another moan slipped out of his room. "Jonathan."

Wiping his hand over his face, he tried to urge his body to continue. As if embodying Florence Nightingale herself, T'Pol's aunt rifled through the bags she'd brought and prepared a hypo. With deliberateness, she shot the stimulant into his neck.

As the hiss resounded, she remarked, "I had a friend of mine prepare the concoction to handle your human physiology. It shouldn't harm you, but you should use it sparingly – once a day."

Steadying himself, he reached out to the table in front of him – the one that held many items from V'Lin.

"It should keep you awake and alert," she said with pity. "I know the challenge zapped some of your strength from you."

Breathing quickly, he felt his heart sputter to life as if he had renewed vigor.

"Are you hungry now?" she asked.

He nodded as his mind heard T'Pol call out for him, almost sinking to his knees at the want from his mate. She was burning, an inferno, and couldn't wait any longer. Stuffing a piece of what looked like bread into his hand, she watched him tear at it as if he hadn't eaten in days and shuffle forward as to answer her.

Talking to his back, V'Lin told him about the food he was gorging on. "It's made from lentils contains protein – something that should help sustain you."

As he was at the portal of his bedroom, catching T'Pol squirming on the bed dark green with desire, he shivered. Before stepping forward he turned.

"Thank you."

A smile lit in her eyes and she headed toward the door.

"V'Lin, why are you helping me?"

Her delivery was unemotional and yet warm. Facing him, she folded her hands in front of her.

"Because you need help."

He couldn't argue with her. T'Pol moaned for him again louder verbally and almost deafeningly in his mind.

_Who is keeping you from me? _

_Your aunt._

_Tell her to leave. The want …. Come to me. I cannot wait. _

As he waited for V'Lin to leave, she waved him on.

"Jonathan, go. I'll drop by tomorrow. Remember what I said about feeding her. It's best to try it before tomorrow."

When the door closed, Archer entered his room, holding his shirt in his hand. Stepping in, he panted for her as she sat up and allowed the sheets to drape over her midsection to her upper thigh.

"You're beautiful," he said. He approached with awe – his steps faltering – as if she was a queen on a throne.

She wasn't just beautiful, she was like a goddess.

Archer remembered his Greek and Roman mythology. Venus was married to the god of the volcano, the one with a hunched back and a hammer kept at his side. Luxurious, chestnut hair with flecks of gold and red fanned out, falling around her face, framing it. Her eyes were like black pearls weighted with tiny drops of water – they glistened in the harsh sunlight. Moist and full, her lips pouted like the petals of a rose in bloom. And her skin sparkled; it was a mixture of patina and warmed copper. T'Pol was the Venus in the Botticelli painting – demure, but radiating sexuality.

Opening his mouth only slightly, he felt his salivation glands work overtime and his exhausted body capitulate to her like a servant.

Obviously, the desire wasn't enough; she sent images to him – his fingers wrapped in her hair, his small lips pressed against her neck, a flick of his tongue against the point of her ear …. So overpowering, he fell to his knees at her bedside.

"T'Pol," he whispered.

Ancient words ruminated in his mind – they were Vulcan, but oddly he knew the meaning. She was chanting something like an incantation trying to keep her mind from creeping into bedlam.

"Shhhh," he said. Stroking his thumb against her cheek, he gave her a soft smile. "You shouldn't be afraid to let loose your desire … your emotions. I don't scare so easily."

"You don't know," she replied in Vulcan.

_Yes, I feel your mind. I know. _

_Aisha, I am at the edge of an abyss. Beneath me – chaos …. _

Her emotions were uncontrollable – he could tell she wanted to laugh, cry, sing and scream all at once.

_I'm ready to catch you, T'Pol. _

As her mind began to slip away, he crawled into bed with her, prepared to take whatever came his way.

* * *

Lunacy tickled her stomach and mind. Maybe it wasn't insanity – maybe it was pure emotion. One feeling in particular was a menace, forcing out the ability to recognize other emotions. Lust. Base … without the need for love or comfort.

As if to make sure the man in bed with her was her mate, _hers_, she nuzzled his hair. Soft, chocolate strands that smelled like seawater fell against her cheek. Sighing, she acknowledged it was his scent.

_I want him, she thought in Vulcan. _

Caressing his rounded ears with her lips and tongue, she heard him give a light hum and felt him spread his fingers through her hair. At his touch, she purred and writhed against him.

He whispered something to her, but she didn't want him to speak – not now. Besides, she realized she couldn't think in English, much less speak it; even thinking in Vulcan was hard right now. Everything was difficult to do right now … everything was eclipsed by the need to mate.

_His lips!_

Taking his lower lip between her teeth, she tugged until his body arched into hers and he moaned. Satisfied, she dug her fingers into his hip and ran her tongue along his; it was warm and wet, and it tasted of previous kisses. His taste was delicious. Sinking her teeth into his lips with more ferocity, she felt him squirm underneath her.

_Yes. _

Licking at his throat, she savored him like an appetizer tantalizing her palette – the salt and sweat. His neck was scratchy, rough against mouth, prickling her skin. Rubbing her face against his cheek and neck, she relished the tiny hairs that irritated her flesh. She wanted to rub her body against it. She wanted to rub her body against him.

_Yes. _

Her greedy fingers rushed through the hair on his chest and stomach, smoothed over the fur on his thighs and clutched at the bare skin of his backside. The touch sparked more life into him and for a moment his eyes closed with pleasure.

_Yes._

Sliding her leg along his, her hands scooted him closer to her so that her body was pressed against him. She could feel his heartbeat as her lips nipped at the base of his neck … she could even feel it beating against her chest. Thumping louder – the noise calling an ancient, more primal, version of herself. He was prey.

_Yes._

Within an instant, her fingers, tongue and mouth assaulted him. Pinning him, she took over his mind and commanded his body. She needed him quickly again before the fires scorched her insides and she burned into ashes. What was sensual turned hungry and panicked. Scrambling to him, her kisses became more frantic and rough as she clawed at his body, hoping he would press his form nearer still.

Throwing her head back with delight, she noticed his hands tried to rip at her skin – clumsily as if he didn't want to hurt her or he had no skill. Encouraging him, she felt his nails penetrate her flesh.

_Yes._

Since the time of the beginning, there was the mating cycle … the Pon Farr. Listening to the rhythm of her planet she fell into the lull of its beat. Her mind fuzzed and blurred; thought and reason, all of it, waned and slipped away.

The next time her mind wrestled itself from the madness – when her mind awoke – she found herself panting. She was on the floor, curled up next to Jonathan watching him sleep. Glancing at the clock she realized a considerable amount of time had passed: five hours. Five hours she couldn't account for. After lightly nudging Jonathan, he stirred slowly and grabbed the back of his head. Squinting at the nearly and blinking quickly, she gathered by his movements he was in pain.

"Are you okay?" she asked. The words were difficult to form; her English sounded strangely alien.

"Yeah," he whispered, sitting up.

"What …?" she asked.

"You tackled me."

_I don't remember, she thought in Vulcan. Her mother tongue was much easier for her to speak in and think in._

"I know."

Gazing over new contusions and scratches, she gave a small pout and tried unsuccessfully to blink away a few tears.

_You should use the restraints._

Brushing away her tears, he said. "I think you're right."

* * *

A headache roared behind his eyes. His body – every centimeter of it – was completely devoid of life and his mind felt fuzzy. Struggling to raise his head, he tried to determine what time it was.

Spying the metallic clock near T'Pol's right ear, he stifled a grunt.

_0823._

Luckily the panting creature beside him was still asleep, which meant maybe this might be a good time to take advantage of V'Lin's suggestion and ask Phlox to take a look at him.

He mentally surveyed the damage: his temples hurt from the place where T'Pol had gripped him fiercely, he thought his ribs were either bruised or broken, his head had a nasty bump and he was too exhausted to move. Worse, his body was completely shutting down. During their last foray, T'Pol had to coax him almost endlessly for his body to perk up and give her what she needed.

Really, he was impressed his body held out so long – thanks to the stimulants and Tri-ox compound – but was concerned about T'Pol; if she didn't receive his … "biological matter" (the words still made him wince) she could die. If he was unable to help her, he'd have to ask someone like Korin to guide T'Pol through Pon Farr. He was determined not to let that happen.

Forcing his body to move and don some clothing, he lumbered out of the room and opened his communicator.

"Archer to Phlox," he whispered.

"Phlox here!" the voice rang out.

Chipper as always. Somehow it felt more annoying now, rather than comforting like it was on Enterprise.

"Doc, this is more of a favor than an order. Do you have time to come down to Vulcan?"

"Yes. When?"

"I was kinda hoping now. That is … if you have time."

"Of course. Is something wrong?"

Licking his lips, he decided not to really answer. "I'd like you to help me with something. A … problem."

"Very well, I'll ask Mayweather to shuttle me to the surface …."

Archer cut him off. "This is confidential."

"I see. If it's that urgent, I can use the transporter. Anything in particular I should know? I'd like to bring the right medical supplies and equipment."

"I'd like you to bring a pain reliever, something in case I broke my ribs and provide some advice on … uhm … stimulation."

Phlox's voice resounded with glee. "Sexual stimulation?"

The captain couldn't refrain from sighing. "Yes."

"The coordinates?" said the physician. He was obviously still delighted.

"I've transmitted them to you."

"I'll be right down, Captain!"

Within a few moments, Phlox's visage shimmered into the living room and Archer met him immediately with his index finger pointed over his lips.

"T'Pol's sleeping in the other room," he whispered.

Phlox's mouth fell open as he nodded in understanding. By the way the doctor stared, Archer took to mean his appearance was even worse than yesterday. Not only that, but if a human could smell sweat and sex in the air, and he could, he knew that a Denobulan would get a snoot full.

"Captain …."

Archer waved his hand in front of his body and uttered the words that seemingly explained everything. "T'Pol's entered Pon Farr."

Phlox jerked his head back. "It's obvious. The bite marks on your neck, scratches along your arms, swelling and contusions around your temples. Your lips are chapped. You have swelling under the eyes as if you haven't slept. Your …."

"I get it."

"You said you thought you'd broken a rib?" he asked.

"It could be just bruised."

"Could you remove your shirt?" said Phlox.

As Archer winced and lifted his weak arms to pull off his gray, cotton t-shirt, Phlox spoke a few words which sounded like a curse.

"Biznik." The sound of the scanner worked around his back and then he saw the doctor wave it over his chest and stomach.

"That bad?"

"I think you've done more than damage your ribs. Your kidneys are bruised, your liver is swollen, your blood pressure is down, your body is dehydrated and slightly anemic, the cuts on your hands haven't healed properly …."

"Doc "

"I would hazard a guess that you're taking the Tri-ox too often and mixing it with some sort of stimulant. Are you?"

"Well, yes, but "

"And I'm sure you're taking the stimulant more than once per day. I would hazard a guess at three times per day."

"Well –"

"The human body just isn't designed for that! Take the stimulants only once per day and the Tri-ox as I ordered. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, but I "

"If you're having trouble … performing, I can provide some assistance on that matter. Are you?"

Archer eyes fell to the floor as his head nodded.

"Although, I have to admit I'm a bit surprised. I would've thought a healthy male your age would be able to assist her four times a day."

"I don't have trouble with four."

The two stared at each other trying to figure out the miscommunication.

And then Archer understood the dilemma. "Four?"

"Yes, that's all she should require," Phlox said.

Archer squinted his eyes. "Four!"

"Now, if you're embarrassed …."

"The Vulcans told me I'd have to help her as many as twenty. We haven't reached twenty, but …."

"Twenty?" With a little too much interest, Phlox asked another question – his voice taking on a slimy quality. "Have you been able to … _meet _that quotient?"

The captain's lips fell flat. "No."

Phlox tapped his chin. "Well, I suppose I can understand the confusion. A Vulcan would have to help her that many times, but you're not Vulcan."

Archer furrowed his brow, waiting for a more thorough explanation and he unfortunately got one.

"You see, human males have larger reproductive organs than Vulcan males, which means you're able to produce more seminal fluid ..."

"Never mind," he said hoping to talk over the doctor.

"… than Vulcans. Human males produce something around … oooh … a thimble full of the fluid …"

"Forget I asked."

"… while Vulcan males produce less than a quarter of that. It's why the mating process is so long for them and why they need to mate many times a day. Vulcan females are prepared to endure the act of mating as many …"

"Okay."

"… times as necessary. Once a Vulcan female is impregnated or after seven days (at least the average Pon Farr), which ever comes first, the mating cycle is over."

"Thanks."

"But, you don't need to impregnation. The chances for offspring are extremely remote."

"I know. Now that that's settled …."

"It's interesting – Vulcan's cycle last seven years. In sharp contrast, human females are only 23 – 32 days. One egg every seven years just waiting to be fertilized."

"Listen, Doc "

"Anyway, if T'Pol has the urge and you're not … shall we say … up for the task, you can do something I've read about in a journal. You can manually stim –"

Phlox was about to raise his hand as if to show the captain this technique, which prompted Archer to grab the physician's hand and interrupt him for what he hoped was the last time.

"That's enough," he said, cutting him off with more authority. Letting go of the doctor's forearm and focusing on a point on the wall, he admitted he knew about this technique.

"I understand what I need to do," Archer said.

"I've also read that humans use a device –"

Archer cut that off as well. "I _understand_."

"Good. Humans are such prudes, I was hoping you'd been trained."

_Not exactly trained. _Something made Archer's skin crawl thinking of Denobulan mothers and fathers not only talking to their kids about the birds and the bees, but giving them pointers.

With glee, the doctor continued to pontificate. "The mating among species is fascinating really. Each is unique, created to help the race survive. Dr. T'Ples believes the desert climate brought the Vulcan primate-like ancestors together so rarely that it was vital for them to mate fiercely and many times per day just to fertilize one egg. That survival instinct has remained in the Vulcans producing few offspring and causing their entire culture to accept this act. All this just so an egg can be fertilized …."

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Enough."

"Oh," Phlox said with disappointment. "Very well." He put his scanner down and leveled his eyes at the captain. "Because you've been overmedicating, I'm not going to give you a pain reliever. I'm not sure your system can take it."

"But –"

"The bump on your hear is superficial and your ribs are merely bruised."

"But – "

"By the number of fresh bites, I assume T'Pol in estrus?"

"Huh?"

"Is T'Pol near ovulation?"

Archer winced again. "I guess …."

"A doctor from Vulcan should see her afterward Pon Farr is over. Or she can ask me if she'd feel be more comfortable. I'll leave that up to her discretion."

"Thanks," he said, unconvincingly.

"Captain, I know how embarrassed you are, but this is a medical question … a question about your safety. May I ask it and receive an honest answer?"

Skeptically, Archer nodded.

"Have you been using restraints on her?"

Turning his head away, a very small voice eked out the word as his face flushed red. "Yes."

"You shouldn't feel uncomfortable; I'm sure the binding is helping to save your life."

The captain shifted his weight and looked toward his feet. "So I've been told."

"Don't let your timidity get in the way. Think of it as … safe sex." He gave a light huff, that sounded like his version of laughter.

Archer wasn't amused. Instead, he stuffed his tired fingers through his hair and threw the doctor an icy glare.

"I'll send something down that will hopefully speed your recovery – including help those nasty gashes on your back. It should also enhance your sexual performance."

_Great. _Nodding, he watched his feet, hoping the rest of the conversation would go quickly. "I don't want to know what's in this do I?"

"It will contain vitamins as well as the secretions of the Boractic slug found in …."

_No, I didn't, thought Archer as he tuned the rest of the ingredients out so that he could drink the mixture when it arrived._

"Now, make you sure you rest as much as possible, eat – you're malnourished and drink plenty of water. It'll take me a few minutes to put the elixir together. I'll ask Commander Tucker to use the transporter to send it down when it's complete."

"All right. Thanks, Doc."

Phlox smile swallowed up his entire face and with a flick of his communicator, he asked to be beamed aboard. Before his image shimmered into thin air, he said a few words.

"Enjoy the rest of your stay."

_Right._

At that moment T'Pol arrived at the door of the bedroom, looking into the living room wrapped in a thin sheet. She was shivering, even though sweat was dripping off her petite frame. Though dehydrated, Archer felt a rush of saliva invade his mouth.

Tiny tears formed in the corner of her eyes. _I've been calling to you. Do you not want me? she projected in Vulcan._

He walked toward her and took her in his arms.

"I asked Dr. Phlox to help me," he said. Cradling her face against his chest, he heaved a sigh. "Couldn't you sense my thoughts?"

She sniffled into his chest, nodding.

Lifting her chin and meeting her eyes, he comforted her. "Of course I want you." Brushing a lock of hair from her face, he confessed his heart. "I love you."

Dragging her back into a hug, he kissed the top of her head. He noticed his chest was wet, but not with tears any longer – her tongue and lips danced against his chest.

Jerking his arm into their room, she almost smiled. "Good. I want you to feed me nes'parah again."

_I hope Phlox hurries and sends the mixture down._

TBC


	11. Part 11

**Part 11**

T'Pol opened her eyes and sighed in relief. The affects of Pon Farr were beginning to wane finally. The madness – the need to laugh and cry at the same time – took its toll on her; she felt emotionally drained. The need to mate tickled her insides, but didn't scorch and burn as if had before. It teased her body and mind just beyond reach.

Turning to the man laying next to her, she gazed at him. He was spotted with little bruises, mostly caused from her lips and nails. Larger contusions spread down his temples, most likely from a mind meld, as if her fingers gripped his face tightly, hoping to get a centimeter deeper in his mind. For his sake, she was glad everything was under control. Everything she had undergone must have been frightening to him; it certainly was to her.

As if summoned, Archer woke up in a start.

"What?" he asked.

For the first time in two days, she could speak in English.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

He gave a silent nod and seemed to recall some of her thoughts.

_Fascinating. _ "I was merely musing on the decline of my … need," she said.

Blowing out a sigh of relief, she could hear him quietly wonder how much more his body could take.

_I need a vacation from my vacation, _he thought.

Before she could question him, he spoke honestly to her. "Most of it was … enjoyable."

"I thought so as well."

Instead of attacking his lips as she would've less than 24 hours earlier, she held out two fingers, which he happily took. As her mouth trembled at forming a few words, he seemed to anticipate her thoughts.

"I'm okay," he whispered.

She could tell he was mostly truthful. His back was sore, his head throbbed and he felt nearly exhausted as if opening his eyes was a chore … but he was unharmed. These symptoms of mating were common; in fact her own body ached.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes."

Something about the interaction made her wonder if her bond was growing in strength rather than dissipating. It caused her eyebrow to crest in the middle of her forehead and her eyes to turn dull.

"It does feel stronger," he said.

He didn't have to.

Nuzzling against him, she laid her head on his chest and exhaled deeply. Seemingly bemused, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and brought her closer to him.

"You weren't sure whether our bond was permanent?" he asked.

"I had … doubts."

"And now?"

"No. You?"

"No."

The two were silent as she searched his thoughts.

"I feel … complete," he said. "Like I know this is going to sound strange like my soul is intertwined with yours."

"Always touching … and touched."

She felt his fingers mindlessly glide through her hair. "I think I understand."

"The bond is a mystery even to Vulcans." As if divulging state secrets, she hesitated until she felt him mentally nudge her.

"On rare occasions, a Vulcan who has been bonded to another at childhood hears the thoughts of another instead. Priests believe that it is two katras searching for each other, seeking unification."

"Soul mates?" he asked, smiling.

She reflected on the thought. "Perhaps."

"Why would these two katras search for each other?" he asked.

"For a logical purpose, no doubt."

"No doubt," he said, teasingly.

Rather than stiffen at the remark, her mind was amused. And she gathered he could tell, because he gave a purring laugh and snuggled her to him.

"Do you think our katras sought each other?"

"Unknown. I don't have enough evidence to come up with an educated opinion."

_So much for pillow talk_, he thought.

"I do believe in many ways we've overcome a great deal to be here … with each other – prejudice, command, friendship, other relationships …."

He agreed.

Enjoying the moment, she pressed her face more firmly against his chest and listened to the rumbling of his heartbeat. Reminiscing, she thought about the time he'd comforted her … when he first took her to bed. There was a pang that formed deep within her belly as she remembered being unable to choose him, and yet knowing he was the choice. Finally, after a long period of silence between the two, she spoke into the still air.

"Perhaps my katra was not searching for you, but I am pleased it found you nonetheless. You mean a great deal to me."

As he was about to answer her, she interrupted him. "Don't speak. You should know my feelings without reciprocating."

Answering her without words, he pressed his lips to her the crown of her head and then she felt herself drift away to sleep.

* * *

A knock on the door woke T'Pol up. Deciding not to stir her sleeping lover, she threw on a robe and headed for the door. 

_If it is a Vulcan male, I will not answer_, she thought. _Although my time is passing, the cycle is not complete. _

With refrained surprise, T'Pol answered the door.

"V'Lin?"

The tiny woman with gray hair's eyes sparkled. "Good morning." At T'Pol's confusion, the aunt spoke again. "Well, that is how Earthlings great each other … is it not?"

T'Pol's eyes lit with amusement. "It is."

"I take it Jonathan is asleep?" V'Lin asked.

T'Pol nodded and bade her aunt welcome anyway.

"I take it you feel better?" she asked.

"Yes," T'Pol said.

She led her relative into the kitchen and fixed Vulcan tea using raw narah root that grew in that region. After the tea boiled, steeped and served, her aunt spoke.

"I have not had narah root tea in ages. Not since your mother died."

T'Pol glanced down at her mug and stirred it with something that resembled an Earthen spoon.

"In your mind I saw you and Jonathan had been friends for some time," V'Lin said.

T'Pol agreed. "Yes."

"There was another you felt … strong about … another human?"

T'Pol's eyes met the floor. "Yes."

"You melded with him?"

T'Pol shifted her weight and kept her eyes on the ground. "Yes."

"You had sexual relations with this man?" she asked.

T'Pol went silent.

V'Lin stared into her tea. "I'll take that for a 'yes.'"

"You are making a point?" T'Pol asked.

"I know that Sovok will not look at that information favorably. Mating with your chosen one is one matter … but with two aliens …."

T'Pol could feel her aunt's stare as she drank her tea.

"What happened?" V'Lin asked.

"Trip and I cared for each other, but we were not … compatible. After he ended our relationship, Jonathan made his feelings for me known."

"Trip?" she questioned.

T'Pol explained. "That is the other human's name."

V'Lin blinked in confusion. "I believed trip to mean an excursion or to fall."

"It's a nickname."

The older Vulcan poked an eyebrow at the comment and then continued with her line of questioning.

"After Jonathan made his feelings known, you switched mates?" V'Lin asked.

"Yes, but … it was not that simple."

"Then what happened?"

T'Pol's mouth quivered only for a moment, before she was happily interrupted.

"She fell in love with me," Archer said, smiling. He walked stiffly into the kitchen and stood beside T'Pol.

"Did I disturb you?" T'Pol asked.

"No," he said.

V'Lin straightened. "I was mentioning that Sovok will glean this information about … Trip."

T'Pol warily looked at her mate, who even after all this time, hurled a frown at the concept.

"It was more than six months ago," Archer replied.

"Six months is not very long to a Vulcan."

"It doesn't matter to me," he said.

T'Pol couldn't help but notice V'Lin furrow her brows slightly.

"On the contrary, I believe it concerns you still," the older woman said. He was silent as the woman explained more information. "Sovok will use this against you. Your next challenge will not be as easy as the one you faced at Mt. Selaya. And as the guardian of the family, he has every right to be concerned about T'Pol's welfare if she bonds with you."

Archer stared into her eyes. "She has bonded with me."

"It could be temporary," the aunt said.

"It has strengthened," T'Pol whispered.

"Can you end it?" V'Lin asked.

"I do not wish to."

V'Lin became silent.

"Isn't there something we can do to bypass the challenge? If we choose each other, why should it be Sovok's problem?" Archer asked.

The matron folded her arms together and said with the most stoic voice T'Pol had heard her muster: "It is the Vulcan way."

Before Archer could pepper her with questions, which he was on the verge of doing, T'Pol reached her hand around his arm to quiet him. The aunt seemed satisfied with the lack of objection.

"Are you well enough to continue the challenge?" V'Lin asked.

T'Pol gave a slight nod as Archer gave a sideways glance to her.

_I can feel your want still, T'Pol. Do you really think it's wise to continue?_

"I want this matter settled," she said.

_It's not like you to be so impatient. Why rush into this?_

With a little more force, her mind said again, _I want this matter settled. Please. If we're forced to break our bond it's better that it happens sooner rather than allow more time to pass by._

_Break our bond? _She could tell he hadn't accepted that was a possible outcome. Why can't we just disregard the challenges and marry without your family's approval?

V'Lin interrupted them. "Then I will contact Sovok. Is tonight enough time for you both to collect yourselves?"

T'Pol spoke up. "Yes."

_Wait a second …._

"I suggest you rest as much as possible," V'Lin said. Leaning over, she produced a smile in her eyes for the human. "I'm pleased to see you're recuperating."

"Thank you for your help."

T'Pol walked away with V'Lin, leaving a mildly displeased captain to brood in the kitchen. As the aunt was about to leave, she threw her niece a look of deep concern.

"You care for him deeply. You should prepare yourself for the possibility he may not be your bondmate for long."

T'Pol almost frowned. "There is no other katra mine could be attached to."

V'Lin nodded slowly. "I hope you're right."

As the door closed, T'Pol took three breaths and then stared at the ground. A sense of foreboding passed over her. Leaning against the door, she hoped Jonathan would pass the next challenge.

* * *

Archer and T'Pol appeared at Sovok and Saaya's house on time. Nearly the entire way there, T'Pol had silently worried about her aunt's warning; she'd been concerned about how difficult the challenge would be, whether or not her relationship with Trip would come up and whether Archer was prepared to handle it. 

To reassure her, he placed a hand on her knee as she parked the shuttle.

_Don't worry._

She refrained from sighing.

Archer, wearing the robes T'Pol purchased for him only days before, headed out of the shuttle and toward the house. Just as T'Pol showed up at his side, V'Lin answered the door. The look in her eye told the younger Vulcan just how serious this challenge was.

It was scheduled after dinner, at a time of night when Vulcans accepted few visitors. In fact, by the time scheduled, T'Pol wondered if the test would take all night. She wasn't asked to bring an overnight bag, but when Sovok contacted her to make the arrangements, he'd suggested the two meditate thoroughly. And somehow she got the idea it wasn't to protect his family from emotions.

As T'Pol entered the house, she felt the solemnity of the occasion and noticed from Jonathan's thoughts he felt the same seriousness.

T'Pol bowed to her uncle, watching her mate do the same. "Greetings."

Sovok, raised his hand. "Greetings."

Saaya appeared behind him, something that looked like a small frown forming on her face.

"T'Pol. Archer."

They gave her the Vulcan salute.

Sovok pointed to a pillow on the other end of the room. "Sit there, Archer."

Saaya helped him remove his robe and he stalked over to the corner and seated himself. V'Lin scooted a little closer to T'Pol.

"We must ask that you allow Sovok to continue tonight, no matter what you see and hear."

A furrow worked across her brow. "I don't understand."

Sovok removed his robe and walked over to sit on a pillow opposite. "I will perform the Glu-Nohv."

T'Pol raised her brow. "With Jonathan?"

_Glu-Nohv?_

T'Pol hesitated, her lips trembling only for a moment. "It's a mind meld that penetrates to the psyche … the essence … of one's katra."

"Is it painful?" Archer asked.

_I have never experienced it, _T'Pol thought. This is … quite rare.

Sovok warmed his hands. "It can be excruciating for some. I recommend you do not resist."

V'Lin added with some urgency in her voice. "Jonathan, that is imperative. No matter what he unearths, allow him to continue until the meld is closed."

Saaya added a few words quietly in the background. "You are sharing your innermost thoughts with your family, who will know everything about you …."

_Jonathan?_

Archer smirked away T'Pol's worry. _I'll be fine._

Despite his words, she could tell he didn't welcome an invasion of his privacy, but decided if this was what it meant to prove he was T'Pol's choice, he'd put up with it.

V'Lin turned to T'Pol. "Do we have your word you will let Sovok continue?"

Archer reasserted, _I'll be fine._

You are a private man. This meld suggests he will uncover things you want no one else to see.

He took a small breath and nodded. _I know._

With trepidation in her eyes, she agreed. "You have my word."

"Then I will begin," Sovok said.

Carefully, he placed his fingers along Archer's already bruised temple and suddenly the two were silent.

Almost immediately through her link, T'Pol could feel Archer's pain. The contusions along his hairline buzzed and hummed. Instead of retreating, Sovok pressed his other hand to Archer's temple and the human gave a soft groan.

T'Pol's left foot involuntarily fell forward as V'Lin grabbed her wrist.

"You gave your word."

She stared at her aunt and then retrieved her hand slowly. "I did."

Sovok's low voice rumbled into the room.

"I see into your soul – your pain, your fear. I will uncover everything. Open up to me."

Archer gasped as T'Pol felt the sharp roar as if her uncle was taking a can opener to the captain's head and ripping it open to poke and prod at the contents.

"Yes," Sovok said. "You fear many things – your ship being destroyed, the inability to make a decision … especially the right one, something happening to your crew, something happening to a friend, something happening to T'Pol. You fear yourself …."

T'Pol saw Jonathan looking into a mirror – black, like the darkest shadows on a night that only produced a sliver of a moon. Rather than look at his own visage further, he turned from it – disgusted.

_She knew this was Archer from the Expanse. It was a man who'd sacrificed everything – his position, his friends and his soul to protect Earth. _

"Yes, you fear yourself. Fascinating," Sovok said.

T'Pol watched Sovok lean forward a little. Swooning a little, she felt V'Lin help her sit; her mental connection to Jonathan was like a rope caught around her foot dragging her under the tow.

"Yes, you fear what you became in the Expanse. The people you stranded there … all those innocent people."

"Oh God," Archer whispered.

_As if experiencing it herself, she witnessed when the idea sparked. He was in the Command Center, and she'd just revealed the time necessary to catch up with Degra. The ETA to meet the ship was later … much later than the Xindi would've waited. _

_Like Oppenheimer or Einstein must've felt – almost in a flash he realized the answer: steal the warp coil. Immediately, he dismissed it. But, as he passed the wreckage that was his ship and skulked into the ruins that used to be his room, the idea chanted and wormed inside his brain. _

_"No," he said aloud. As he sat down and stared into a darkened room. _

_His own voice, the one he'd listened to in the Expanse answered him back. "Oh, yes. You'll do anything to save Earth. You said so yourself, 'Whatever it takes.'" _

_"No. Isn't it bad enough you've cloned your friend and then killed him? Worse, you've condemned people to death – even your own crew? What about your ethics? Your morality? Your soul?" _

_"Saving humanity is your mission. Your soul be damned." _

_Having the answer – a bonafide way to save his crew and planet – made the decision much easier than it should've been. As Phlox entered his room, he put the finishing touches on the plan to pirate a ship. _

"You fear you allowed your ship to be destroyed after you made a mistake that T'Pol encouraged you not to make," Sovok said.

"I don't want you to die," Archer whispered. They were the words she herself had spoken to him before he entered the Insectoid ship and sped away to Azati Prime. It was before his mission went awry.

T'Pol felt a rush of emotion and then it quieted like a sea at low tide, holding itself at bay.

"You fear this mistake cost the lives of your crew."

The captain rattled off the names of the crewmembers who'd died as if he'd made a point of memorizing them. "Crewman Taylor, Crewman Rodriguez, Ensign Stark …."

Sovok raised a brow. "You fear that you weren't ready for this assignment. You sometimes wonder if your father's friend didn't promote you before you were ready."

Archer stiffened.

She saw into his mind again: Admiral Forrest smiled brilliantly as he offered the fourth pip to Archer's uniform. As the captain straightened and saluted, Max beamed at the new captain.

_"Your father would be proud," he whispered, lower than anyone could hear. _

_Although a smile graced Jonathan's lips, the comment made him wonder whether he deserved to sit in the captain's seat. A.G. was 10-years older with 10-years more experience. Gardner, nearly A.G.'s age, was the man the Vulcans wanted; they'd argued his serene temperament would bode well for Earth. But, instead, Forrest had chosen him. And seemingly for no apparent reason, none that he could speculate on anyway. _

Sovok probed deeper and T'Pol's mind clouded as if unable to compete with the greater force.

The captain trembled and blinked quickly while T'Pol drew quicker breaths.

"No," she said, aloud.

"You've seen your father die in front of you – a shell of his former self. Riddled with a disease that afflicts only .3 of Earthlings. His mind was shriveled and his resolve weakened."

"Dad," he whispered. His eyes became glassy at the thought.

T'Pol could clearly see how his father died, something that in her months of sharing thoughts she'd never seen. Henry Archer, his face gruesome with agony, lay on a bed with various tubes shoves in and up parts of his body, wasting away in front of his 12-year old son. The boy's eyes spilled over with tears as he knew he was watching his father draw his last breaths. The man couldn't speak, but simply raised a finger to the boy's cheek and collected a trickle of water than sprung from his eyes.

_Jonathan wondered whether to run for his mother – who was out in the garden, but knew instinctively he should be there as his father passed; there wasn't time to run for her, not now. And there was an important duty to perform … it was a responsibility that fell on the man of the house … his shoulders. _

_"It's okay," he heard himself say. His voice choked and he curled his fingers around the hand of the man that raised him. _

_The older man contorted his face in anguish. _

_"Dad, it's okay." _

_Jonathan knew that releasing his father was the most important thing he could do. And some bond between the two let him know that's exactly what his father wanted; Henry Archer was going to hang on until the last possible moment. _

_A few more tears slipped down his cheeks. "We'll talk again soon." _

_The man's eyes filmed over and his mouth fell open only marginally. There were words and thoughts formed on his mute lips, but the boy knew what they were and let a few tears roll down his cheek. _

_Henry's hand collapsed and the young boy shriveled on his father's stilled chest, sobbing. _

T'Pol shook herself and noticed her mate fighting to restrain tears.

"Please, don't do this," she asked. Blinking quickly she felt water form at her own eyes.

Sovok's furrowed his brow and pushed deeper as if on a mission to uncover something. Archer quivered, his façade slipping and his determination waning.

_After Henry died almost right away Starfleet, influenced by the Vulcans, seemed determined to scrub the project, which was deemed a waste of time and money. One of his father's friends, Forrest, and a few others had argued that point to no avail. His mother, who'd worked along side her husband in the lab, had tried everything in her power to further the studies, but within three years of Henry's death, the project was placed on what the government had conveniently deemed a "hiatus." _

_The day they closed the Warp 5 wing at Starfleet HQ, his mother packed away the last of the belongings and Archer tagged along to give her a hand. _

_"I did not think anyone would be here," Soval said. He'd entered the facility without either knowing. _

_Megan glanced up. "I didn't think you'd be here." Rather than stop and talk, she continued to put things neatly into boxes. _

_Soval neatly collapsed his hands behind his back. "Although it may be difficult to believe, I think your species will eventually travel in space. You are not prepared to now, but you may be one day." _

_The woman shot a cold glare in his direction and threw her hands on her hips. "Not within my life time." _

_The Vulcan shot up an eyebrow in surprise. _

_"What more do you want? You made damned sure to end the project my husband devoted his life to! You could've helped. I know we were close, but you're too high and mighty to want anyone traveling in space with you." _

_"Mrs. Archer –" he began. _

_That enraged her further. "You people hurt Henry in ways you don't even know. You hurt my family in ways you can't even understand." _

_Jon stared down at his feet. His mother was a passionate woman, but not prone to fits of venomous anger, like this one. The project was the last bit of his father still left. In some ways closing the Warp 5 project made the family relive his dad's untimely demise. Worse, it killed the entire family's dream … something they'd been living off of for more than ten years. _

_His mother curled up her lip. "Soval, you could never understand. My husband trusted you, counted on you. I think he even thought of you as a friend. He didn't realize we, all Earthlings, are meaningless to you." _

_The Vulcan shifted his weight. _

_"Well, you're just as meaningless to us." _

_Without having packed everything, she picked up the box, stuffed one more item and made a dramatic exit. To side with his mother, he glowered at the Vulcan and marched behind her. _

"Prejudice," Soval said. "Strange that you should be seeking a bond with a Vulcan."

With a little more force, the Vulcan gripped the sides of Archer's face. "Show me what I want to know."

The human's face twitched. T'Pol could feel Jonathan trying to fight her uncle.

_Give in, _she thought to her mate.

Instead of capitulating, he opened his eyes and shook under the pressure of Sovok's mental grip. It was frightening and even in her mind she could feel the reverberations. Sinking like a woman drowning, she knew what her uncle was looking for.

Jonathan, give it to him.

Wincing in pain, he shook his head.

"Very well," Sovok said. His gaze turned almost angry and he bared down on the captain with incredible telepathic strength. T'Pol wavered a little, near fainting as she felt the Vulcan burrow through her mate's mind until he found what he was looking for.

Images rushed through his mind – past girlfriends, most of whom had left him because of lack of attention or care on his part. The man had spent the better part of his life devoted to Starfleet instead of worrying about women or chasing after them.

But, one woman hung in his mind longer than others. The regret was deeper and more complex. A petite young woman, somewhere around 21, with curly, red hair and brilliant blue eyes hung in his mind longer than the others.

"Margaret Mullen," Sovok said.

_It was a rainy San Francisco night. Margaret and Jonathan laughed and held hands as they ran through the downpour, along concrete streets in the industrial district – past blocks of warehouses, storage containers and empty parking lots. As they ran closer to her home, the 24-year old man, watched his girlfriend's simple blue, flowered dress and long tresses cling to her body. _

_When they reached her complex, a little brownstone, he stood on the stoop with her and kissed her passionately … as if they'd never embraced before. _

"Come inside with me," she whispered in his ear.

_Nodding slowly, his heart pounding in his chest and throat, he stepped onto her hardwood floors, water dripping from his frame and pooling at his feet. After she closed the door, her hands smoothed over his drenched shirt and they stripped each other and fell onto her Oriental rug in the living room giggling. He took a deep breath, hoping to capture the moment in his mind's eye for eternity. Gazing over her, he sighed at her beauty her cheeks, lips and breasts were rosy, like a budding flower, from the cold rain and excitement. _

_Pushing a twisted strand of drying hair from her face, he stared into her eyes. _

_"I love you," he whispered. His mouth fondled hers. _

_When they broke for air, she whispered back to him. "I love you, too." _

_Nibbling at his lips and then throat, he could tell she was interested in reintroducing the desire that sparked between them … and he was too. But, if he didn't do this now, he'd never work up the courage again. _

_Rustling up the bravery he'd lacked for the past month, he turned serious. His fingers intertwined with hers and he stared at them – they were dainty and dotted with freckles. _

_"I was thinking … after I graduate, maybe you and I could …" _

_Gazing back into her eyes, which were strewn with confusion, he took another deep breath. _

_"I'm not saying this right. That night I saw you at the party … I've known since then." _

_Margaret whispered, "Jon …." _

_"Maybe this isn't the best way to do this," he said, glancing over her naked and prone body. "But, I've been wanting to ask you this for a while." _

_As she opened her mouth, he rushed the words out before he could reflect on them. "Will you marry me?" _

_Eagerly his mouth connected with hers. When he drew back, his smile faded as a furrow worked between her slender light brown eyebrows and her heart shaped lips turned down. A little nervous, he laughed. _

_"That wasn't exactly the reaction I expected." _

_"Why can't we just stay like this for a while longer?" she asked. _

_His throat closed and he stared down at the rug underneath them. "Because I love you. And … I thought you loved me." _

_Sitting up, she grabbed a throw that had been folded onto the leather chair beside her. Quietly, she draped it over her. _

_"I do love you. We … we've never talked about marriage before. I never thought you wanted to. It seems the only thing you're married to is the academy and Starfleet." _

_"You told me you wanted to get married someday … have children." _

_"I do," she confessed. _

_Realization dawning on him, he closed his eyes. "Just … not with me," he said. _

_"I can't … wait around for you." _

_Tears hanging in his eyes, threatening mark his face, he shook his head. "I'm right here." _

_"You're here now, but the future…? I don't want to end up a Starfleet widow." _

_He shook his head in confusion. _

_"I don't want to be like Commander Valance's wife; she sees her husband once a year. I see the way she looks at him … as if he's a stranger." Pausing longer than she intended, she spoke again. "She raised those two children by herself." _

_"It won't be like that," he whispered._

_She gave a sad smile. "You say that, but I know you. It'll be worse. Starfleet … space … your father's dream has always come first in your heart." _

_"I can't believe after all this time … you don't even know me." _

_Without considering what else to do or say, he stood up – shamed with embarrassment – and began to put on his wet clothes. _

_"I don't want it to end this way," she told him. "I never wanted to hurt you." _

_Staring down at his feet, he opened her door and walked back onto the stoop. Turning his already soaked collar to the cold and rain, he walked home– numb. After a while, he couldn't tell what was dampening his face – the rain or his tears. _

T'Pol's breath caught in her throat. Although she'd seen into his mind, she'd never understood until now the hurt that moment had caused. It was easy to fall into the next wave of emotion and thoughts.

Archer was up late, as he was much of the time these days. As he picked up his mug from the coffee dispenser and placed it to his lips, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

_"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Hoshi said, smiling. _

_He didn't confirm nor deny it. "What are you doing up?" he asked. _

_"Bad dreams," she said. The comment was vague, but he could tell she was troubled. 'You going to sit for a while?" _

_He could tell it was more of a request to talk. _

_"For a bit," he said. There was data in the command center he wanted to review. But, he had a soft spot for the communications officer and had worried about her ever since she'd agreed to stay with the alien creature – Tarquin. _

_Sitting, she pushed her cheek up onto her knuckle. "Chef made spaghetti again tonight. Any reason?" _

_"I thought he made fettuccini tonight." _

_She shrugged. "Pastas all seem the same to me. Any chance I can get back in the kitchen?" _

_Frowning a little – remembering her fixation on Udon – he decided to be kind. "I need you at your post communications. You still have some of the Xindi database to translate." _

_Nodding, she leaned in a little. "Have you heard about Murphy and Taylor?"_

_Shaking his head, he showed his confusion. _

_"They're dating." _

_"Oh," he said. "I … I guess I'm not surprised. It's been a difficult mission." _

_"I suppose that's why you haven't done anything about Trip and T'Pol?" _

_"Come again?"_

___She giggled and swatted his arm. "Oh, come on. He's been in her quarters three or four times a week for 'neuropressure.' Malcolm told me sometimes they undress for it. I agree with Lt. Reed; there's more going on than a little touchy-feely." _

___Stunned he watched, perplexed. "Dr. Phlox indicated it was a medical treatment." _

___She leaned in to gossip more. "Crewman Miller said he heard the two talking about … spending the night together in the Mess Hall. I … just never would've thought the two of them …." _

___Stiffening, he let her continue without hearing her words. Blinking through the pain that settled in his stomach, he finished the conversation as if going through the motions. He heard himself speak, joke and excuse himself, but it wasn't him speaking – it was some automaton. _

___Giving a final grin to her, he walked back to the Command Center and stared at the screen. In his mind, really, he'd known it was more than just some Vulcan healing art. Neither T'Pol nor Trip talked about it much – and the commander was the kind to either brag about how good it felt or question why he needed it in annoying detail. Maybe the fact his friend hadn't spoken about it meant it was significant. _

___"Would they say anything to me anyway?" he asked himself aloud. _

___He'd been retreating into himself so utterly, focusing on the strategy to destroy the Xindi weapon and distancing himself from the crew – especially now that he needed to be a hard ass … now that he needed to be a military commander more than their friend. _

___As he pulled up some recent scans T'Pol had taken, he sighed and ignored the pang in his heart. _

_"There was another human before Archer," Sovok said._

___The grocery store excursion had been a success. After stopping at the place he always ventured when he was back in San Francisco, he made a special stop at a vegan place that specialized in Vulcan cuisine and then headed back home with a box full of items. Hefting it with one hand and fishing into his pocket for his key card with the other, he fumbled to open the door. _

___The sight almost made him drop everything in his arms. _

___T'Pol, dressed only in a bathrobe, was snuggled into Trip's arms and their mouths were open in a passionate kiss. Archer noticed Trip's fingers slid along the belt of her robe, until he spied the captain hanging in the hallway. _

___"Hey, Jon! Sorry, Hoshi said T'Pol was staying with you. I just had to see her." _

_I bet__, he thought. _

_T'Pol's large brown eyes held fear and embarrassment. She worked her robe closer to her body, pulling the collar of it together in humility._

___"You can come into your own place, Jon," Trip teased. He grabbed at T'Pol's robe as she backed away. _

___"Uhm," Archer said, nearly tripping over the carpet at his door. _

___Gathering the box from his hands, Trip gave a casual smile. "Don't worry about cooking extra. I can't stay. I told my family I'd be home before midnight. I just … I just wanted to let you know how I felt, T'Pol. You don't have to answer me yet, just think about it. Maybe we can … hook up … on Saturday." _

___The phrase made Archer nearly drop a box of pasta he'd stuffed into his hand while he tried to ignore what was happening around him. _

___"That work for you?" Trip asked. _

___Archer as he put away a few more items, glanced out of the corner of his eye to see her give a slow head bob. _

___Trip smiled. "Thanks for taking care of her." The engineer walked over to hug his shoulder and then clap his back. _

___"I'm glad you were able to put her up while she's on Earth. I doubt she'd wanna stay at the consulate." _

_If you only knew the half of it,__ Archer thought. _

___Crossing over to say his goodbyes to the woman he came to see, he winked. "T'Pol, honey, I'll call ya tomorrow." _

___With that, he kissed her cheek and left. _

___As soon as the door glided shut, Archer assessed the situation and came up with only one possibility: she hadn't expected him to be home so soon and possibly used that as her chance to show her feelings for Trip. The thought foamed and stirred in his mind like a tidal wave of anger. Jealousy swirled in his stomach and threatened to spew. Banging his cupboards shut, he found the tsunami of emotion difficult to contain. _

___"Jonathan, let me explain." _

___And so the emotion burst free. _

___Whatever she had to say, he didn't want to hear it. Whatever excuse she could offer, he'd already determined, was paltry. Suffering through the rumors about her and Trip, and suffering was the right word, he'd eventually become used to the idea. If his heart couldn't find happiness, somewhere he'd reasoned with himself that at least his closest friends could. _

___But, when Trip ended his relationship, hope bubbled helplessly to the surface and simmered there. Having her on his couch showing him a Vulcan embrace weakened the resolve he'd committed to and he gave in … to passion, to love, to hoping she could somehow at some time return his feelings. _

___"Oh, I don't think I need an explanation to know what's going on!" he yelled. _

___The rest of the conversation was a blur and venom was infused in every word he said to her. Looking for an escape out of the conversation and room, he dramatically smacked his keycard to a shuttle on the table and told her to leave with his shuttle to go to Florida. Marching into his bedroom and slamming the door, he decided to pace around his room – hoping to come up with the right solution. He'd leave and let her have the apartment for the rest of his stay … or maybe he could offer to drive her to the Vulcan settlement. _

___With each plan that came to his mind, he dismissed the idea because of one simple truth: he'd miss her. The thought made him collapse onto his bed and stare at the ceiling. He was in too deep now. And at the rate he was going, he would've ignored everything he saw and run back to her – to forgive her, to ask her forgiveness, to make love and talk about their future …. _

___It was with a slow breath, he realized T'Pol needed to determine her own feelings. Even as they mingled minds in the Grand Canyon, he could feel her interest in Trip. Although she wouldn't classify it as love – he would. It held mystery, an aching of the heart, confusion and lust. Even when he'd seen the two kiss, he'd noticed those emotions crossing her features. _

___The crushing feeling in his chest increased. Closing his eyes, he tried to summon the mantle he'd worn before – the one that made it possible for him to deal with the relationship in the past, deaths, torture …. He reached for the man he'd been in the Expanse, hoping to beckon him. But that man wouldn't come. _

_Breathing deeply, he turned onto his side hoping to fall into a deep slumber._

_"Jealousy and hurt."_

_Sovok's fingers left Archer's temple and the human crumpled to the ground. T'Pol rushed to his side._

_"He's unconscious," T'Pol said._

_"You had a relationship with __two_ Earth men?" Sovok asked.

_T'Pol raised her eyebrow in anger. "You didn't need to put him through that to find out."_

_V'Lin joined her niece, crouching down beside her. "Let's put him in Sovok's back bedroom."_

_The two women hoisted Archer's long form up, strung his arms over their shoulders and headed to the as Saaya and Sovok walked behind them._

_Saaya asked a question quietly. "Should we contact a doctor?"_

_Sovok replied. "No, he is merely fatigued. When he wakes I would like to determine more about the other man."_

_After V'Lin and T'Pol spread Archer out on the bed, T'Pol turned with something like a sneer spread over her lips. "You could ask me."_

_"That is not the purpose of this. It's to determine how he feels."_

_T'Pol met her uncle's gaze and in a bold move, stepped closer to him. "Don't do this to him. Humans are more emotional and susceptible to emotion. Bringing up his father's death … our history is painful to him."_

_"That is precisely why I do it, T'Pol."_

_"I protest this," she said. The words held more feeling than she'd intended._

_"You protest and your forfeit the challenge."_

_Her fingers curled into her hands, forming two small fists. "He is my mate. My blood burns for him. He is aflame for me. We share thoughts and emotions easily. Even if I end this challenge, you cannot diminish what is between us."_

_Sovok shot her an icy glare. "Only because you are my brother's daughter and in the throes of Pon Farr will I listen to your insolence."_

_As she turned her back, he provided more comments. "Ending the challenge is your decision, but I warn you: this family will turn its back on you as if you were an Andorian stranger."_

_V'Lin's eyebrows climbed against her head as T'Pol stared at her mate._

_"Leave us until he comes to," she said._

_Sovok was about to argue, when Saaya intercepted. "You should rest as well, husband."_

_TBC_


	12. Part 12

The story had become an oral tradition. It was why T'Pol's mother told her one night before the young woman entered the Vulcan High Command.

_Rama and Surak had reached middle aged. Her face and frame was still beautiful. Long tresses of black hair, streaked with silver, fell over her shoulders and her eyes sparkled with the same interest as they always had. Surak, who's wife had been dead more than five years, was just as aged. His hair – now gray – fell in a bowl and his body, once tanned and lithe, was wrinkled. _

_Although more worn, neither ended their routine, including one of Surak's favorites: wandering into the desert to meditate. Under the open sky – the sun and the stars –he achieved a one-ness with the universe: serenity. Rama, who always accompanied him, saw no reason why she shouldn't join him this time. _

_So, when he announced after dinner with his students that he would head into The Forge the next morning, Rama immediately left to pack what few belongings she had. _

_Only a day into her journey, she experienced a wave of heat. Stumbling for a moment, she shrugged it off – hypothesizing it was the effects of age. _

_"Your feet have slowed and you have grown quiet," he said to her. It was his way of teasing her, but expressing his concern. _

_"Are you suggesting I am verbose?" she said. _

_His eyes beaming at her and he agreed without having to so verbally. _

_"My age is catching up with me," she said. _

_A smile lit into her eyes and Surak's head nodded slowly. _

_But, by the fourth day she realized it was more than just heat. There was burning like a flame … a fever. It crawled over her skin and itched as if she could not scratch it. It made her think of the first night she tried to seduce Surak. It made her want to attempt it again. _

_ Staring over the small fire that he had made, she studied his features. _

_"You _are_ ill," he said. _

_Emptying her canteen into her throat, she glanced up. "I am not ill." _

_"You have nearly depleted your water. Your eyes glisten and gleam. Your hair is damp with sweat …." _

_She didn't argue. _

_"Rama? Withholding the truth is …." _

_"I have not been withholding the truth." _

_Shaking his head, he stood. "I should head back into town and get you assistance." _

_As he gathered a few belongings to make the journey, she touched his wrist and went aflame. _

_"I am not ill." _

_Jerking his head back only slightly, he seemed to understand the dilemma. "When did you realize you had fallen into the Pon Farr?" _

_"I believed myself too old …." _

_"How could you have not known the burning … the lust?" _

_Her lips trembled. "My age. This is like my first fever – it caught me unaware." _

_"Can you hold out until we reach the village?" he asked. _

_Another four days of having her skin prickle and sensing her insides singe was too much. Even speaking of her wants, caused her lips to quiver. _

_"No. I do not believe I can wait even a day." Watching his chin touch his chest, almost in defeat, she gave a near frown. "I apologize, Surak." _

_Holding out two fingers for her, he closed his eyes. "You should not apologize. No offense can be made where none is taken." _

_As their fingers touched, he ran them down her arm as she shuddered. "You are my closest friend. If I cannot deny a stranger in the throes of Pon Farr, how I could I deny you?" _

_Titling her head back, she let him undress her and shivered as he knelt with her onto a blanket. _

_"I regret that another is not here to satisfy you," he said. "I have long wanted someone to touch your heart and mind. I hoped someday you would have a family." _

_Her mouth pressed against his urgently. "Touch me." _

_Finally, his lips took hers and fingers joined hers. A whirlwind of emotion and passion overtook her. Before she could contemplate her actions, she felt her fingers free him of clothing and her mouth worship his shoulders, arms, face, hands and chest. She reveled in the moment – his body was glorious. _

_The moment they collided, Rama's fingers danced along his temple to share what she felt – the wonder and awe of the moment. Panting into the night air, she showed him the overwhelming love that had always been there for him. Sometimes the love was masked as friendship, as she did everything to support Surak, his teachings, his family and his marriage. Sometimes the love was flame; when in Pon Farr she'd imagined the other men she'd been with to be Surak. _

_"Someone has already claimed my heart and mind," she said, whispering to him. "You." _

_"It is the madness," he said into her ear. _

_Halting his motions, she stared into his eyes. "No." _

_It was then she shared with him the lust that she'd had to meditate away every day … the longing in her belly to caress him that had been there since she tried to seduce him all those years ago. _

_"I did not realize," he said. It made his breath stutter. _

_Rushing her fingers through his hair, her lips and tongue savored his – lapping the taste of him. _

_"Share your thoughts with me," she said. Taking his hand to her face, she felt the flicker of his thoughts. _

_"Rama, no," Surak warned. _

_The Vulcan woman distracted him by rolling onto him, penetrating his mind as his control slipped away. _

_As she felt his thoughts, sifting past the mathematic equations and logic, past the pain he'd suffered when his wife died and found his feelings about her. They were disappointing in a way. Instead of passion and lust, he'd felt only deep and soulful friendship for her. Untainted and pure like a well protected from the desert sands, it refreshed and quenched him. Like a brother's care for a younger sister, he wanted her to find fulfillment – in logic, in a mate, in a family, in herself …. _

_Hearing her thoughts put that friendship in jeopardy. In a way, he wished he could return her feelings. It would be easier that way – especially since he wanted her to be content. _

_Retreating from that thought, she removed her fingertips and surrendered to his body. After he caught his breath, she fell at his side without touching him. _

_"I did not want you to see," he whispered. _

_Staring off into the sands, she gave a slow nod. "You have never indicated I was more than a friend." _

_Touching a strand of her hair, he comforted her hurt – something she was certain he could feel in his own mind when they were briefly joined. _

_"You will always be my closest friend," he whispered, cupping her face. _

_"I will always care for you than … just a mate," she said. "But, I saw your love for T'Pana there. There can be no one else, can there?" _

_"She alone is the mate for my katra." As if to apologize, he stroked her cheek. _

_"You have not done anything to dishonor our friendship." _

_"And neither have you." _

_Quivering, she let him hold her. _

It was strange that T'Pol remembered this story now. When her mother had told her, it seemed unbelievable: a Vulcan, one as logical as Rama or Surak, would never confess love and desire. Rama was considered Surak's right hand; it was impossible to think that she had followed logic out of unrequited love.

And yet, watching Jonathan sleep and thinking over the images she saw, she understood Rama's plight. Jonathan was determined to care for her no matter what, even if she couldn't or wouldn't return his feelings.

Archer opened his eyes and blinked quickly. Immediately, T'Pol's hand ran over his cheek and brushed aside a lock of his hair.

"What happened?" he asked.

As delicately as possible, she provided him the information. "You fainted."

With a chin scratch and a head nod, he sat up.

"About what you experienced …."

Lifting his eyes, he gazed at her, which made the tingling sensation in her stomach more painful.

"I … apologize about what happened before," she said.

Averting her gaze, he nodded. "You don't need to."

Because she could see into his mind, it was clear the events – the ones she participated in with Trip – hurt him. The mind meld in general with Sovok was difficult – reliving painful moments one after another was excruciating.

"Jonathan …."

"I just want this thing to be over. Is it?" he asked.

"It is."

Skeptically he watched her. "So … what's the verdict about us?"

"It's over meaning: I won't subject you to more."

Standing up, towering over her, he furrowed his brow. "It doesn't seem like we have a choice."

"You yourself indicated there are choices. I do not need my uncle's permission."

"But, if that's true then … the Vulcan High Command won't recognize us, and you won't be able to return to Vulcan."

"Yes."

"And your family disowns you."

"Yes."

He shook his head and placed his hands on her shoulders. "We've been through too much now to turn back."

She shook her head. "The decision has been made."

"I don't agree with it."

"You're not the captain here, Jonathan."

Frowning, he disagreed. "That wasn't what I meant. We're in this _together_."

"No."

"Look, I don't care about them dredging up the past. Everything … everything has already happened. I'm not going to let you sever all your ties to your planet and family just because my future in-laws are scoping out my mind trying to figure out what makes me tick."

As she opened her mouth, he reasserted himself. "Let's see what happens. We're too close."

Grudgingly, she brushed her nose against his and he smiled. "I'm glad we agree," he said.

Heaving a sigh, she touched lips with him and stifled any residual symptoms from the Pon Farr.

Smirking, he took her hand in his. "Let's go get your relatives."

T'Pol frowned and then walked out of the room holding his hand.

* * *

Sovok stood as the two emerged from his back bedroom. Archer saw a flicker of surprise cross the man's features and then vanish, almost as if it didn't happen.

"You are not withdrawing?" Sovok asked. Archer noted there was a trace of disappointment, which made him more resolved.

"No," Archer said, sitting down on the pillow beneath him.

Sovok sat down across from Archer, folding his legs in the same manner.

"Thanks for the use of your room," Archer said.

"I hope you have readied yourself, Archer. The next phase is quite difficult."

He ducked his head for a moment and produced a thoughtful nod as the uncle watched T'Pol close her eyes.

"Very well, then I shall begin."

With that, his fingers gripped Archer's face as Sovok chanted a few phrases to propel himself into his mind.

There was one more piece to the puzzle, and as Archer slipped into the mind meld, he knew what it was: his relationship with T'Pol.

_Her snotty response about how humans weren't ready to travel amongst the stars - due to their volatile nature - forced him to respond with a smart-ass quip about knocking her on her ass._

_Smug and confident, he was pleased with himself until Forrest uttered the words he thought he'd never hear._

_"She's going with you, Jon. She'll be your first in command." _

_The one saving grace was that Trip didn't seem too pleased with her either and that she'd be out of his hair in a few days. _

"That seems so long ago," he murmured.

_Over the course of the year things had changed. Slowly, he began to warm up to her – even like her. And soon after that he didn't just like her, he trusted her … strangely more than Trip or anyone else. Her advice, expertise and experience became valuable – necessary even. Her emotionless, expression, flat voice went from annoying to appealing. The catsuit she stuffed herself into went from interesting to alluring. And, he had to admit her presence went from acceptable to wanted._

_Overnight, sometime – he wasn't sure when – he'd fallen in love with her. He thought Trip knew that, but it seemed the engineer had his own wants and needs. _

_That's when the rumors started flying. Reed would snigger under his breath to Travis about "naked-pressure" or "touch-feely." Although Archer frowned on ship gossip, he had too many things to do than babysit his officers on social etiquette, so let the comments go … maybe because in the back of his mind he agreed. _

_When Hoshi explained "touchy-feely" wasn't just a rumor, but a fact, he'd tucked his feelings neatly away … until Trip severed the relationship. At Trip's request, and wanting to help her, he spent time with her and eventually invited her to Earth where he'd hope to win her over. _

_Things were tense, especially at the 602 Club, but he considered himself – eventually – victorious. _

"It troubles you that she was involved with your friend," Sovok said.

"No." _Yes. _

"Sometimes you wonder if you sabotaged their relationship."

"No." _Yes. _

"You don't want to see into the crevices of T'Pol's mind to find out more information – everything about this other man."

"We have a bond," he said. "I already know how she feels."

Sovok shook his head. "Not everything. Bondmates keep no secrets."

Reaching through Archer and T'Pol's mental connection he unearthed information that made the captain squirm – about the neuropressure, about the trellium addiction ….

_T'Pol's fingers closed around a canister and she forced it to her neck and sighed deeply, letting her mouth fall open by centimeters: the drug _felt _exquisite. Emotions, raw and untamed, surged inside of her … making the drive to mate irresistible. _

_Tonight of all nights, that's the exact emotion she wanted to elicit. _

_Walking into her quarters, she pulled out a robe – deciding to wear only that – and scented herself with a flower grown on Vulcan. Brushing her hair and coloring her lips, she readied for his arrival. This was the night, she had decided, she would seduce him. She wanted him to be hers. _

Archer shifted uncomfortably.

_Lighting her candles and reducing the light, she waited … pent up with desire. Casually, he joined her on her bed and removed all the clothing he needed to for his treatment, as he would any other time. Her face inched closer to his as the two bantered. _

_Finally, in a dramatic move, she wrapped her fingers around his head and kissed him deeply. In her mind, she was begging to lay with him – wanting to feel his skin on hers in the most intimate of positions. She wanted him to touch her. _

_Easing off her robe, she stood naked before him. And when the shock wore off and he'd recovered enough to stop gawking at her body, he grabbed her to him and threw her beneath him to the sheets. _

"That's enough," Archer said. His face twitched and he moved from the meld.

"There is more," Sovok said.

"I don't really want to see."

"Becoming a bondmate to someone means you will see _all _their thoughts, even the ones you may not want to."

Furrowing his brow, he glanced out of the corner of his eye. T'Pol's head rested against her chest.

"It's bothering T'Pol," he said.

"It troubles her that it concerns you so."

Archer reached out to her and could tell what Sovok said was mostly true. There was a part of the Vulcan that was embarrassed by her actions; they were unfitting a Vulcan. But, more than anything, she was concerned about his jealousy.

Gritting his teeth, he apologized and waited for her uncle to resume the meld.

_A new scene emerged, one that looked familiar to Archer. He was in his old apartment pouring two glasses of wine and heading for the couch. As soon as he reached it, his link with T'Pol rattled – stiffening as if she could predict what would unfold. _

"T'Pol," Sovok said, threateningly.

"He shouldn't see that."

_Archer handed T'Pol a glass. Twirling it in her hands, she raised a brow. _

_"I don't drink often." _

_Smiling, he joined her on the couch. "Don't feel obligated." _

_Raising the glass to her lips, she swallowed deeply, closing her eyes. The drink was rich – although she was not partial to alcohol, she understood why humans drank wine. It reminded her, in some ways, of trellium – as if she could lose her inhibitions in it._

_Satisfied, she gazed at him – his lips and eyes._

_"Good," he replied. _

_Setting down the glass, she glanced around his apartment. "You have an aesthetically pleasing abode." _

_He shrugged. "I'm not much on decorations." _

_"I like your black and white pictures." _

_Pointing at one across the room, he said, "Well, we're going to that one tomorrow." _

_"I look forward to it." _

_As she whispered the last words, he seemingly grew contemplative and quiet. She'd been warned by Hoshi that staying with Captain Archer might be difficult – something about how guests and fish become rotten after a few days. The exact euphemism escaped her. _

_"Is there something troubling you?" _

_A genuine smile, full of tenderness, overtook his entire face. Softly, he said to her with a gleam in his eyes, "No, actually, I'm not troubled at all."_

_It was charming … and so was he. Thinking back on the past several weeks, she hypothesized that the captain loved her. A brief hug between them enabled her to tell – only for a second – he cared about her … deeply. His interest in "cheering her up" over the last weeks, the amount of attention he'd showered her with and the desire to please her all led up to that conclusion. So, she drank her wine quietly, set the glass down and then held two fingers to his. _

_At the touch, she felt his thoughts in a rush – he did love her – painfully so. He'd hoped not to rush things, but felt the urge to kiss her. So, she stroked his fingers. _

_"What are you doing?" he asked. _

_Besides his emotions, T'Pol realized something – doing this felt good. It had been several weeks since she'd been intimate with Trip. This _felt_ comforting … reassuring. _

_"I am showing you a Vulcan embrace," she said. Her fingers spread and traveled up his forearm, which she gathered right away he enjoyed. _

_"Listen, T'Pol," he whispered. "I don't think you should do this. It hasn't been very long since you and Trip …." _

_Avoiding the conversation, she moved her fingers along his jaw and lips. He was handsome, a friend … and right now more than that – he was a man. Illogical though it was feeling … rejection … hurt. This, the touching of fingers, eased that discomfort. _

_Moving slowly, as if he might frighten her away, he placed his lips on hers. His gaze was intense and she could feel his heart skip and sputter. She opened her mouth and ran her tongue along his as he moaned into her throat. _

_He has been waiting for this for months … for years._

_And then suddenly, he pushed her away. "I don't think we should do this."_

_She knew he wanted to continue and only needed a small amount of encouragement. _

_"Why? Do you not wish to?" she asked. _

_Her fingers stroked his cheekbone and his lips fell against her throat. "No. That's not it. I just wonder if it's too fast for you." _

_It was, but she wanted this anyway. Pulling him over her, the two kissed eagerly and without abandoned. When she closed her eyes, she almost felt like this was familiar … like something she would do with Trip. Her fingers worked to unbutton his shirt and she splayed it open. _

"Don't show him more," T'Pol said.

_Within moments, his hands roamed over her body and their hips collided, teasing each other. Urgency: she felt it from his emotions and thoughts._

_"Come here," he said, taking her hand. _

_ She knew what it meant: he wanted her. And … she wanted to be desired. _

_"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked when they reached his bedroom. _

_Silently, her eyes wondered, but her mouth agreed. "Is this not what you want?" _

_"I've been wanting this for a while." _

_Stripping her down to her Starfleet regulation underwear, he decided to ask a question she was hoping he wouldn't. _

_"So, what happens after tonight?" _

_Leaning against a pillow, she replied honestly. "I do not know." _

_Gliding a finger down her throat, frowning, he asked another question. "So, then … what's this all about?" _

_"You desire me. I feel desire for you." _

_"Just desire?" _

_"You seem to feel more than lust for me." _

_Disappointed, he clarified that he did feel more than lust for her. She confessed in return he was a friend, a colleague, someone she trusted, respected and admired. _

_"Friendship and lust, huh? And what you feel for Trip is deeper." _

Much_, she thought. "Yes."_

_Without much additional information, he got to the crux of the issue. "You want to feel desired?" _

_It was embarrassing he'd surmised it so accurately. It was illogical. It certainly wasn't Vulcan, and yet it was true. _

_"Yes," she said. _

_Gazing into his eyes, she could see the aching – it was evident. But, then he did something extraordinary, instead of ending their liaison, he agreed to give her exactly what she wanted. _

_He stalked over her abdomen and kissed up her stomach. "Do you want to feel cared for? Loved? Adored?" _

Yes. _She wasn't sure whether she managed a nod or not, but understood within seconds he was confessing his soul to her as he cherished and worshipped her body. Every touch and word was intoxicating, and she became drunk quickly – lapping up every comment and caress. _

_"I do adore you. I've been thinking about you … fantasizing about this …." _

_Slipping her eyes closed, she remembered when Trip wanted her like this. She could almost imagine his soft blonde hair caressing her neck, she could almost feel his small tipped nose nuzzling her chin and hear his smooth Southern accent whispering to her. _

_"I've been in love with you for years. I'm still in love with you," he whispered. _

"I never thought she was thinking of me," Archer said. It was a lie, but felt like the right thing to say.

_So, the two made love. What astounded the Vulcan is how open and giving Jonathan was. As if studying her every moment, he concentrated on those things she enjoyed – the motions that made her eyes squeeze shut tighter and her writhe under him. Kissing her tenderly, he encouraged her to submit to ecstasy and then called her name lovingly, in a whisper, as he fell into bliss. _

_After pressing his lips to hers again and then holding her to him, he fell to her side and tucked the blankets neatly around them. A furrow worked between her brow and he smoothed it gently with his thumb. _

_"You okay?" he asked. _

_"I'm fine." _

No_, she thought. She'd had sex with her best friend and commander, using him because she wanted to feel as if she mattered to someone. _

_"Was that okay?" he asked. _

_"Yes." _

_It wasn't "okay," it was beautiful. Almost as if reading her mind, he gave her a small smile. _

_"That felt good to me, too," he said. _

_He planted a kiss on her forehead. _

_"Jonathan …." _

_"Let's talk about it tomorrow." _

_Stroking her hair as if she was the most cherished person on Earth, she felt him watch her sleep. _

Sovok removed his hands and tipped an eyebrow as Archer's head met his chest almost as if in defeat. The uncle took a deep breath.

"We'll continue the next stage tomorrow. It is late and I grow fatigued."

It was just as well, Archer wasn't sure he wanted to continue. His mind and body were exhausted and his spirits felt low.

V'Lin gave a near frown. "Be back here tomorrow at 10 a.m."

T'Pol hesitantly got to her feet, avoiding glancing in Archer's direction. It was just as well, he wanted to evade her eyes, too.

The two silently, and without touching each other, walked to the shuttle and got in. Both of their thoughts remained sequestered, as if they wanted to keep from damaging their relationship further by what happened.

When they were almost home, T'Pol finally broke the stillness.

"I'm sorry for what you experienced."

Gazing out the window, he shrugged. "It happened in the past."

As she landed the shuttle, he could tell she was worried. For some reason, it wasn't important to allay those fears. Right now, he just wanted some time to himself -- time to think and escape. Climbing out of the shuttle, he made a beeline for her house. A hand stopped him as he reached the door.

"I would like to discuss this."

Unable to refrain from rolling his eyes, he headed into the house muttering under his breath. "Fine."

She illuminated the darkened room as he glanced down at his watch – it was already 0100. Somehow he had a feeling he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" He knew.

She raised both eyebrows. "I know you are troubled. I am as well."

"If you mean I'm upset that when you first slept with me you were thinking about Trip – yeah, I guess so." _That was an understatement. _The comment was meant to sting, and he was pleased at its success.

"I didn't think about him the entire time. When we first embraced it reminded me of him – including the smell of sweat and musk."

"What a relief. You were only thinking about another man some of the time."

Swiping his hand over his forehead, he frowned. He'd put up with a lot of shit during this vacation – Vulcan customs, in-laws, bonding, Pon Farr, mind probes -- but things were reaching a head; he'd had enough.

"I wasn't thinking about him even _some_ of the time."

He fumed quietly.

"I know my relationship with him has always troubled you."

That was the last straw. Seeing inside her mind, he knew that she'd seduced Trip because of the trellium and had grown more attached to him after the incident. The drug usage was only one of the things that pissed him off. And without realizing it, he began to confront her about things that had angered him for months ... years.

"Why couldn't you have just stuck to the neuropressure! Why'd you have to shoot up with trellium!" he asked. His voice was explosive.

T'Pol's eyes widened. "Because I wanted to fit in. I wanted emotion."

"Jesus, T'Pol. When you we made it off the Selaya, I never thought you'd recuperate. You were in sickbay two weeks. Two! How could you do something so stupid as to put that into your bloodstream?"

"I thought this was in the _past_," she commented.

Huffing a little, he marched into the kitchen and poured himself some water hoping to put a little distance between them. When she followed him in there, he decided apologizing would win him a quick exit.

"It's not going to do any good to rehash everything that's already happened. I just … I'm tired."

"You know why I wanted to fit in?" she asked.

Archer hung his head against his chest. He knew.

"You and Dr. Phlox were my only friends – the reason I stayed. And once you stopped coming to me for guidance and assistance … or friendship … I believed I made the wrong decision in remaining onboard. I thought I'd acted rashly following you into the Expanse."

"That's funny, my other officers didn't have a drug problem or sleep with each other. And these people were facing the destruction of their planet, family and friends deaths and the human race becoming extinct."

The two stared at each other.

"I'm … I'm just angry that you chose my friend. Out of 82 people on Enterprise, not including the MACOs, there were about 79 people you could've seduced."

"Are you angry because the one I didn't select was you?"

"No," he said. But, the thought wiggled in his mind, worming around. "Maybe." _Yes._

She was silent.

"I mean, what was wrong. You weren't attracted to me?" he asked.

She blinked.

"What, I'm too old? Not your type?"

"I wouldn't have begun a relationship with you if I was attracted to you or believed you were ... not my type." His mouth opened and she stated something else. "And as for age, you are more than twenty years my junior. I didn't begin a relationship with you for many reasons then, including: you were my commanding officer and unavailable."

Relief settled onto his face, but darkness still hung in his eyes. "But, you chose someone who reported to you."

"It was … unwise. However, he was handsome and available. Jonathan, I cannot change the past."

He sighed. "I just never thought any of this would've been a problem. After all, you're Vulcan."

"You should know better than anyone that even Vulcans have emotions – they are even confusing to us. And, perhaps I'd … lost my way."

"So, can we get past this?" he asked.

"I sense jealousy and betrayal."

He admitted to the feelings reluctantly. "Yes."

"Do you think _you _can overcome them?"

Staring at the ground, he watched his shoe nudge one of the tiles on the floor. That really was the question. Ironically, he thought he already had.

"I think so," he said. For some reason his voice didn't have the same certainty he'd intended.

Gazing into her eyes, he mumbled something about needing time to think and headed off for his room. For the first time in several days, he had time to himself – downtime. Staring at the ceiling, he wondered about the right thing to do.

_I should probably get some sleep,_ he thought.

TBC -


	13. Part 13

**Two Things Are Certain**

A/N: Archangemon – thanks for your review; I'm glad you were honest. I'll give my intention in I think the longest author's note I've ever written. I'll start by saying: I think my intentions were good, I think I just lack the skill to deliver my intentions.

Throughout this story, and I probably haven't doing a very good job of describing this, Archer's made a lot of sacrifices … at least from his POV. He's accepted the whole "she needs to be Vulcan" thing before landing on the planet. He's accepted other Vulcans will turn their noses up at him, that he has to meet the in-laws, wear new clothes to impress them, act differently and help T'Pol through Pon Farr. He's really bent over backwards, including mentally and physically putting himself in danger.

Although Archer was aware that T'Pol had feelings for Trip when they were together; he didn't know that she was fantasizing about Trip their first night together. That was really the intention: to show she was thinking of Trip and not Archer. What a blow to the ego!

I think these two things (accepting so much and being forced to see into T'Pol's mind – watching Trip and her couple) together have made him feel used and confused.

Things that hurt us often come back to haunt to us – even if we thought we'd accepted it. I think it happens in real life, and I've tried to illustrate it in the story not just with Archer and T'Pol, but also with Rama and Surak. Rama has always been in love with Surak. She has her opportunity to act on it, but finds out Surak will always think of his dead wife romantically – not her. I think, right or wrong, it adds a layer to the Vulcan story – finding logic through love. Besides, in a way, T'Pana, Surak and Rama are like Archer, T'Pol and Trip. I've been trying, obviously unsuccessfully, to allude to that point.

Here's the other thing. If bonded, Archer and T'Pol will share every thought. _Every thought._ Although Archer has accepted the idea that she and Trip were together, he's got to get over the image of seeing it happen and feeling used. (By the way, T'Pol was never trying to make Trip jealous; she was only trying to comfort herself.)

I have to admit, there's some contrivance here: this challenge had to be bigger than the last one (where he was scaling Mt. Selaya) and it has to be something that almost ends their relationship or at least gives them serious pause. Nothing like bringing up old wounds! And, I've always wanted to see something that will either show up in this chapter or the next one.

This is purely from my point of view. Your opinions, the readers, are more important. I can show intention, but not success. Anyway … onto the next chapter.

All: My apologies for taking so long with this chapter.

* * *

After meditating mostly unsuccessfully for a few hours, T'Pol sat on her bed with her knees drawn to her chest. Perhaps she could understand his dilemma: although all the events Jonathan saw were in the past, it brought feelings of insecurity. His ego, and he had one, was bruised. 

As she blinked at the ceiling, she could feel the embers of Pon Farr singeing her insides. It reminded her that she'd been ignoring it all evening. Using her bond, she recognized he was brooding over his own thoughts, but ... he was awake. So, she wandered to his room and hung in his doorway, knowing he was aware of her presence.

"What?" he snapped.

"I thought perhaps we could talk?"

Gingerly walking on the balls of her feet, almost tip-toeing into the darkened room, she sat on the edge of his bed.

"I don't want to talk," he said, robotically. He rolled over, throwing the covers closer to his chin.

"No doubt Sovok is testing our relationship. When he indicated Vulcans hear every thought, he was correct. I'm certain this test is to prepare you for that."

"I know." Sitting up a little, he said to her darkly. "Just like I know your _need_ drove you here."

Her breath caught in her throat. "That's not the primary reason. I wished to discuss what happened."

"You can't hold out that long," he said.

Instead of lovingly take her lips in his, as he'd done almost every moment she'd requested his help, he began stripping out of his clothes – hurrying to get it over with.

Shivering, she shook her head and whispered into the night air, ignoring his nakedness.

"Jonathan … I want us to resolve this before we …."

His fingers worked at her pajamas and she grabbed his hand.

She said, "It's important to me that we come to some understanding first."

"All right," he said, unconvinced.

"I know this has been difficult."

He didn't disagree.

"I know you have made … sacrifices. And I'm certain seeing into the past was …."

He waited.

Her fingers touched his jaw. "I call tell your self-confidence has waned."

Swallowing, he glanced away. "How would you feel, T'Pol, if the shoe were on the other foot?"

"No doubt the same."

Silence rang out.

"Look into my thoughts," she said. "Look into our bond."

_The two of them were in a shuttle, heading from Enterprise back to Earth. Instead of jabbering away as he piloted them, Archer was quiet. He had been ever since the two had joined in a meld and she had seen him, many of his thoughts and feelings. The physical and mental union they'd experienced together was intense. _

_She wrapped her fingers around his hand and gleaned his emotion: there was a weepy quality to his thoughts, but not sadness. Leaning in she stared at the man, wondering what he was thinking. _

_"Are you all right?" she asked. _

_"Yeah," he said hoarsely. A smile spread over his lips, which seemed just as incongruous with the emotions that radiated from him. _

_"The emotion you are feeling – what is it?" she asked. _

_"Love." _

_Closing her eyes, she sunk into her own thoughts. The emotion felt like a welling of the heart and then constricting. The pit of his stomach was tied in knots and he had difficulty breathing. _

_"It makes you want to cry?" _

_"I guess so." _

_"I thought tears meant unhappiness. I didn't gather you were sad." _

_"Sometimes tears can be blissful," he said with difficulty. She reached into his thoughts again. Laying there, somewhere just beyond the surface, she understood that he'd admitted to himself he would give her anything and everything he had -- his money, his wealth, his life and his soul. _

_And with that, she spied a solitary tear roll down his cheek. Breaking the grip -- from their hands clutching each other -- she reverently she collected it onto her finger and studied the water and him. Instead of looking at her, he kept his eyes ahead attempting to focus on the shuttle and regain control. _

_She'd never seen Jonathan cry. Never. It was only one tear, but for him it seemed like a torrent. Even when he'd learned of the death of a friend – A.G. Robinson – even when he'd had to clone Trip and condemn Sim to death; Jonathan Archer always kept his sentiments bottled up. She'd gathered he always had. _

_It meant he was lost in the moment ... The interesting thing was: so was she. Her katra felt full with him, as if her soul was constricting and yearning with the same pulsing beats as his. _

_Closing her eyes, she notched this minute into her memory. _

_"Your mind, body and katra are … exquisite," she said. The man beside her, all of him, was beautiful. She wanted to say so much more._

_"You ain't too bad yourself." His lips twitched and his eyes and cheeks sported crinkles; he gave a small smile as he glanced at her. _

_She loved him. _

"That it is the epitome of my feelings for you," she said. "It is what I remember when I think of you."

"I know you love me." Their fingers fell away from each other's temples.

"Do you?"

His head hung down against his chest. After a few minutes of silence, she brought up something that had been plaguing her mind.

"I have been thinking about Rama frequently lately."

He furrowed his brow. "Your cousin?"

"No. Surak's friend. She was a woman dedicated to Surak ... willing to risk life, wealth, reputation, pride … everything … to be with him even though she knew he would never return those feelings."

"Yeah. That's what your aunt said. Seems sad," he said.

By the look in his eye, she could tell he was still waiting for an explanation.

"In many ways you remind me of her."

At his further confusion, she finished her thought. "In the shuttle and so many times before and since, like Rama, you were willing to give me everything because you couldn't ignore your heart. That is the essence of love."

He didn't respond.

"Are things so different now?"

Sighing, he shoved a hand in his hair. "Are you asking me if I still love you?"

She didn't answer.

"I do. It's just … what you've asked of me …."

"Are you unable to give?" she asked.

The corners of his lips turned down. "No."

"Then what is it? Do you not trust me?" she asked.

"No, that's not it."

Finally, he looked into her eyes, and she saw a glimpse of pain. "You're right. My ego smarts. I trust you, but … sometimes I wonder if you wouldn't be better off with Trip."

She raised her eyebrow. That was an answer she didn't expect. "Why?"

He shrugged. "He's younger; he'll live longer. He excited passion in you …."

"He did once, but not now. Not in many months."

He turned his head, which caused his fingers to take his chin so he could look at her. "Do you think you stir nothing?"

"No," he said.

"You think Trip stirred more?"

Narrowing his eyes to think, he disagreed. "No. It's just ... it's uncomfortable to see into your mind and know what happened between you two. I'd rather not know."

"I know our bond has shown you things that hurt you, Jonathan. I cannot change that."

He nodded his head as if he'd already known.

"My relationship with Trip has been over for sometime. I could've rekindled my relationship with him, but I didn't. I chose you."

Biting the inside of his cheek, he averted her eyes again, a clue that he was still wrestling with his own emotions -- like self-doubt.

"As for your age; I'm older than you by twenty some years."

He shrugged.

"And Trip is only eight years your junior. It's possible he could die before you. Isn't it?"

"I suppose."

She waited for further explanation and he finally said something in a voice so hushed even she had to lean in to hear.

"It's just … sometimes I … you're so beautiful. I don't know. Sometimes I wonder why you'd be interested in me."

_His confidence _is _hurt._ Her hand wrapped around his and she gazed at him. Instead of meeting her eyes, he looked away.

"In the heat of Pon Farr, I've only wanted you."

Pushing him gently to his bed, she kissed his throat. "Let me show you how I feel about you."

He tried to squirm away from her, but she was persistent.

Whispering into his ear, she said, "I adore you. You are the only one who occupies my thoughts … my heart."

Although it was difficult, she let the remaining embers of Pon Farr sear her, ignoring the need to take him. Working her mouth onto his shoulders, her hands stroked his chest.

She said, "Your body is sensual – pleasing."

"You don't have to do this," he said.

She stared at his face. "Your eyes are mystical … hypnotic … like staring into the flame of a candle."

Kissing his mouth again, she whispered against it. "Your lips are soft and your tongue …. When our mouths touch I crave the taste of you."

Inside she smiled that he panted at her statement. It made her open her mouth and tease his tongue with hers. As his arms wrapped around her, she wiggled out of them. She wasn't finished.

Her tongue darted down his chest, licking all the spots that made him hiss in delight, until it caught his navel.

Fighting the urge to ravish him, she lovingly twirled her fingers in the hair at his stomach. "Everything about you … creates such want."

"T'Pol," he said.

Although burning, she found his lips again. "You are everything to me."

His fingers slid beneath her hair and he gasped; it was obvious he could feel how the Pon Farr was scorching her insides. "God, I feel your desire. It's ..." His mouth crashed against hers. "We should probably …."

She was determined to continue, avoiding more kisses from him, she pressed her lips against his neck and ears.

"I know I have not always been the perfect mate, but I think of you as I have no other. You are my bondmate. My lifemate. My katra belongs to only you."

"I love you, too," he said.

"And even if I was not in Pon Farr, I would still lust for you."

Her mouth caressed his temples, the area still slightly bruised. Moving his head, he tried to intercept her lips.

Sending images of love, care and passion … she hoped to get through to him. UnVulcan though it was, she displayed her fantasies about him -- he was covered with sweat, his hair damp, and he lay writhing naked on a bed pleading with her to end his longing as her mouth taunted every inch of him.

"God," he whispered. His hands fumbled to divest her of clothing, thrilled at the knowledge that she thought of him this way even out of her mating cycle.

"There's so much more," she whispered. She'd thought about the two of them in his ready room, on the bridge alone, in the turbolift ...

It caused him to smile.

"You can turn to our bond to witness this," she said. "It has always been available for you to see."

The two stared into each other's eyes and then he closed his eyes. "I see it."

"I see your passion for me as well." Touching lips with him again, she spoke in a hoarse voice. "I feel it."

His eyes flashed open -- they were dark green and wanton. Unbuttoning and removing the rest of her clothes, she couldn't wait any longer. As he was about to press his body against hers, she pushed his wrists to the bed.

"I want you," she said.

* * *

Eight o'clock arrived before either knew it. T'Pol's eyes blinked against the sun's rays that streamed into the guest bedroom. Staring over at her sleeping lover, she curled against him and watched his chest rise and fall – still sound asleep. 

_This has gone far enough. Too far,_ she thought.

Poising her lips against his skin, she silently berated herself: Vulcan robes to impress her relatives, a challenge that put him physically in danger, a mind probe that crushed his ego and sequestering herself so she wasn't overburdened with emotions.

_No wonder he felt confused and hurt._

The first order of business: call off the challenge. It was pointless, hazardous and seemed detrimental to their relationship.

"Don't do that," she heard beside her.

Staring into his eyes, he seemed earnest.

"I won't let my jealousy or fear get in the way this time."

They'd had the discussion before, but now she was resolute in her decision.

"No," she said.

His finger curled against her neck and he softly kissed her lips. "I know there is no one but me in your mind. I acted stupidly."

She wasn't changing her mind. "No."

Lips traced her ear and he kissed the tip, whispering as he did, nearly tickling her skin. "T'Pol …."

"No."

He sighed and nodded quietly, gazing into her eyes. "This morning was nice."

"The urgency is gone, which enabled our union to be more … languid."

Wearing a smile he said, "I thought it was just great make-up sex. Almost makes me want to fight again."

She blinked, letting the remark stand and traced her forefinger over his grin.

"My Pon Farr is over."

His thumb brushed against her cheek. "Dr. Phlox said perhaps you should see him, or a Vulcan doctor."

"I should." Pausing, she rubbed her nose against his and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for your help."

"My pleasure," he said as he cupped her chin.

They kissed with love instead of passion. When they broke apart, a lop-sided grin smacked onto Archer's face as his toes rubbed against hers and their fingers intertwined.

"I'd like to contact Soval and ask him to allow me to see V'Lar's body today, since we have no other engagements."

Reluctantly, he nodded.

"And then we can return to Enterprise."

"You don't want to see V'Lin or your cousin, Rama, before you go?"

T'Pol's eyebrow perked up and her eyes fell on his chest. "No. Sovok would ask them to stop communicating with me."

He kissed her forehead.

Lifting her body from the bed, with regret, she placed the robe around her. When he pushed himself up the Vulcan intercepted.

"I'd like to follow an Earth custom – breakfast in bed."

He smiled. "I'd like that. Can I shower while you're in the kitchen?"

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of breakfast in bed?" she asked.

He gave a light chuckle. "I'll come back to bed."

"Then proceed."

With that she took off to prepare the morning meal. Vulcan cuisine, like everything else in their lives, was orderly and exact. Because of the preciseness of it all, it took an hour to make even one of the most basic meals. She wanted this one to be special, so she was willing to spend a little more time. Just as she put the finishing touches on everything, she thought she heard the door close.

"Hello?" she asked, walking into the main room.

No one responded.

Padding her feet against the tiles, she walked into the guest bedroom – no one. Checking the bathroom, she noticed he wasn't there either. And then she heard a noise – the shuttle engines roar and immediately she used the bond; she knew exactly what he was doing.

_Don't! _she thought.

He was headed to Sovok's house without her, determined to finish the mind meld with her uncle … set on finishing the challenge.

_I'm not going to allow you to be disowned, T'Pol,_she heard from him.

Throwing on some clothes, she tried figuring out the most appropriate course of action. She would need a shuttle herself to stop him – Sovok lived too far away to walk … and she wouldn't reach him in time. So she contacted Rama.

Pressing her fingers along the communications console, she saw her cousin's eyebrow peak in surprise. T'Pol didn't commence with pleasantries; instead she spoke demandingly.

"You must take me to Sovok's house."

Rama knitted her brows together. "What?"

"Please, Rama, I need to reach Sovok's house. I don't have time to explain."

"Your reaction is emotional."

"I know," she admitted. When she saw her cousin wasn't responding, she sounded more needy. "Please."

T'Pol studied her cousin's face and noticed with some hesitation that she finally gave in. Although, honoring this request appeared to be the last "favor" she'd ever ask her for again.

"I will be there in approximately thirty minutes," Rama said.

She nodded, accepting the delay, and thought about contacting V'Lin or Sovok to ask them to refrain from conducting the ceremony. Pressing her finger against the button, she waited for Sovok's visage to appear and nearly gave a frown when it didn't. She attempted again with no result.

The mind meld had already begun.

_Surak wouldn't allow Rama to volunteer to conduct the negotiations between the Vulcan factions; he claimed it was too risky. Vulcan – all of it – was on the brink of war. _

_Two days after he arrived in Sral – the location both factions had used to try and make peace, serenity came to a halt and the city trembled under massive explosions. Chaos. _

_War. _

_The suffering was great, but his dedication to peace was greater. After helping as many as he could, he traveled to the Vulcan capitol to speak to the leaders and demand order – it didn't matter which side gave in first – what mattered was peace and tranquility. What mattered was that the Vulcan race would continue – for his children … and for generations to come. _

_When he climbed the steps to the capitol at Shi'Kar, Rama caught him as he collapsed. Seeing the advanced signs of radiation sickness, she helped him give his last speech of harmony to the leaders of the planet. The council was divided; Surak's charge was for these leaders to give up and many were unwilling to do it. _

_After hours of debate, the council adjourned and Rama assisted Surak to a bed. _

_"I must travel to the Forge," Surak whispered. _

_Nodding only briefly, she understood her charge and prepared their things for the journey. _

_It was difficult; they traveled at a snail's pace as war raged around them. The bomb blasts could be heard through the canyons of the barren wasteland and rippled through the cracks and crevices. _

_Marching ahead, they found a cave in the middle of the desert, one they'd been to many times before. Kneeling to the ground, Surak's eyes focused on his friend. _

_"Here is where I will die," he said. It echoed against the walls. _

_"No." _

_"It is my time. I am an old man; I no longer need to cling to life." _

_Shaking her head, she silently disagreed. "Let me be the vessel for your katra," she whispered. _

_"I can think of none better." _

_Trembling she stroked his hair. _

_"That is no way for a Vulcan to act," he said. His hand caressed her face – proving that the comment was between teasing and chiding. _

_"I will have difficulty finding logic without you," she said. Her fingers stroked his cheek. _

_"You and Master Krall, Master Sont, Master T'Pran, must or war will wage forever." _

_Nodding, her caresses formed into the position needed for a mind meld. But, before she could begin, Surak said a few last words to her. _

_"You have always meant so much to me." _

_She kissed his hand and confessed something he knew already. "You have always meant everything to me." _

_When his fingers attached to Rama, she was blinded by images – brilliant ones and many … so many … involved her. She was his best friend, his greatest student and had become part of his heart, his body and his mind. _

_"Remember," he whispered to her. "Remember." _

_The soul of Surak filled her essence. Crumbling back onto the floor she stared at the vacant body and sobbed until a voice welled within her. _

You must continue

Yes,_ she thought. She would make the trek back to find the other students and protest the war, after she buried Surak's body and left his writings behind in case the unthinkable happened – war could not be stopped. _

_War or no, when she was ready to die she would return to this spot, placing her katra and his in a vessel for those who needed logic and reason to guide them._

* * *

Archer landed the shuttle. Although he was dressed in human clothing, he didn't care; he told himself it wouldn't … or at least shouldn't … matter. The only thing that did was completing the challenge. 

Eagerly, he made his way to T'Pol's uncle's front door. When he knocked on it, V'Lin answered, her face alight with something that mirrored restrained shock.

"Where's T'Pol?" she asked.

Archer shrugged and gave her the greeting he always did. "I came here of my own volition."

"She does not approve of you being here?" V'Lin asked.

Moving closer than he ever had to her, he shook his head. "No. But, I know what's going to happen if I don't go through with this."

"You want to continue anyway," she said. It was a statement.

"Yes."

A bland expression was the only response as the two made their way into Sovok's house. The head of the house turned the corner, walking into his living room.

"You come alone?" Sovok asked.

"I'd like to continue," Archer said. He puffed out his chest to show he meant it.

Sovok gave a near frown. "The next stage is the most challenging. You may wish she was here for support."

Sitting down on the ornate, metallic pillows that were strewn over the floor, Archer spoke with confidence.

"I'd like to begin."

Saaya, who'd wandered into the room, exchanged a glance with V'Lin.

"I don't believe that's wise," she said.

Because she spoke so rarely, Archer understood that she was worried for him. In a way, it made him more resolute.

"It probably isn't," Archer said.

Sovok nodded his head. "Very well."

The man gathered his long brown robes around him and sat across from the captain. Placing his long slender fingers along Archer's temple, he began the meld.

"My thoughts to your thoughts."

_As Archer fell into a trance, suddenly the meld was averted. Blinking slowly, he wondered why Sovok ended the link._

_"I have gathered what I need to from you," Sovok said. _

_Looking on perplexed, he waited for more information._

_"The next phase is the kal'i'fee," Sovok said._

_"Huh?"_

_"Your feelings for T'Pol are strong. Are you prepared to fight for her if she doesn't return them?"_

_"I don't understand." _

_"If you want her, you will be expected to fight the man T'Pol has chosen. It is the Vulcan way." _

_"What?" Archer asked. That didn't make any sense._

_"You are expected to fight her champion … the man she has chosen to be with."_

_"I'm confused." He corrected Sovok. "She's chosen me."_

_"No. She has chosen someone else."_

_Hearing a rap on the door, the Vulcan sauntered nonchalantly to the door and opened it. He extended his hand into the Vulcan greeting at the guest who was out of Archer's line of sight._

_"Welcome," Sovok said._

_Standing, Archer furrowed his brow and waited for this mystery guest to enter. His mouth fell open as he watched someone he'd never expect to show up on Vulcan enter the abode. _

_"Hey, Cap'n," Trip said. The engineer, clad in the khaki desert gear Starfleet wore in hot climates, meandered in smiling. _

_"What are you doing here?" Archer asked. _

_"Sovok said I'm T'Pol's champion … that T'Pol wants me." _

_"Huh?" Archer asked. "I think you have the wrong idea." _

_V'Lin interrupted, concern plainly on her face. "There must be some mistake. These men are friends. They can't be expected to fight to the death." _

_Sovok contradicted her, shoving a hand into the air as if warning her to stop. "I read T'Pol's thoughts." _

_Trip gave a stern look at Archer. "I'm sorry, Jon. Sovok thought it was best to wait until after her Pon Farr was over to tell you." _

_Archer shook his head. This just didn't make any sense. "What?" _

_"You were right to be concerned, Archer. T'Pol's feelings are clearly for this man." Sovok extended his finger to point at Trip._

_"No," Archer said. "This morning …." _

_"T'Pol is confused, but these are her thoughts," Sovok said._

_"She's not confused. She cares for me," Archer replied. _

_Sovok asked, "Then you will fight for her?" _

_A furrow collected between Archer's brows as he folded his arms. "I'm not fighting him." _

_Sovok said, "You are not going to fight for your mate?" _

_"Not him," Archer said. _

_Trip asked, "Does that mean I win her?" _

_Sovok gave a brief nod. _

_"Win her? Wait a minute …," Archer began. _

_"Are you willing to fight him?" Sovok asked again. "If you want her, you must challenge your friend." _

_Trip spoke up. "Jon, if she wants me, let her have me." _

_"Why would you do this?" Archer asked Trip. _

_The blonde pushed a hand through his hair and made a confession. "I've never stopped thinking about her … dreaming about her. Even when we work together …." _

_Archer thought the two had been getting along well, but didn't think Trip was still harboring feelings._

_"Listen, Trip, she doesn't want you. I don't know what Sovok has told you." _

_Trip disagreed. "Sovok said she burned for me. That even in Pon Farr she imagined my mouth … my body." _

_Archer breathed deeply and threw his eyes away from his friend. His heart began to pound in his chest as his fists clenched. _

_Calmly, Sovok walked to a stone table in the hallway. When he stood before two large, ornately carved boxes that looked like they were made out of something that resembled wood, his voice rumbled. _

_"From the time of the ancients. It is now, as it was in the beginning …." _

_The Vulcan picked up one box and then opened it dramatically – the top whirling into the air and then landing with a smack to the tiled floor – as Trip gathered at his side. The engineer withdrew first a long, sturdy sling and then tucked it into his belt. Next, he took out a lyrpa, a spear with a fanned-blade, and swiped it through the air. With a smile, he brought the instrument to his body. _

_Sovok retrieved another box as Archer felt his feet move forward. _

_"Take your weapons," Sovok instructed. _

_Just as Archer found his place next to the Vulcan, he wavered. Something wasn't right; Trip wouldn't do this. T'Pol certainly wouldn't. It didn't make any sense. _

_"I'm not fighting him," Archer said. _

_"Then you give T'Pol up without challenge?" Sovok asked. _

_"She wouldn't want Trip back." Archer folded his arms across his chest. At that exact moment, T'Pol entered the room throwing open the door. Instead of crossing to clear up the problem, she stared at Trip -- amazed. _

_As Archer was about to ask her to clear up the problem, she suddenly rushed forward and threw her arms around Trip and kissed him wildly. _

_Instead of disrupting the embraces, the captain watched in disbelief._

_Their kisses became more intense, their lips parting, and Archer could feel the blood rush to his ears. Averting his eyes, he shook his head. _

_Archer said, "There's no way T'Pol would do this. It's not real." _

_"You see her excitement for this," Sovok said, his voice steady. _

_Jonathan was quiet, keeping his eyes on the ground._

_Sovok circled the captain. "You see T'Pol's excitement for him."_

_Archer looked up; the embrace between Trip and T'Pol had turned embarrassing. His hands roamed freely and her head tilted back, delighted._

_Reluctantly, he answered. "Yes."_

_"The burning … the craving you always assumed was for you was for him. This angers you, does it not?" _

_"Stop." _

_"For these and other trespasses, you want to fight him." _

_"Stop it." _

_"Ever since our meld yesterday, you have been thinking about the times they mated. Since you share a bond with her, you have seen that in her mind and know that it thrilled her." _

_"Shut up." Archer's lip involuntarily formed into a snarl. _

_"You know she enjoyed his hands and lips on her." _

_"Stop it." He'd seen a lot more. Sharing T'Pol's mind meant knowing thoughts so intimate, they should never be spoken or explored. It meant knowing Trip did please her at one time. And if he wanted to call the vision up, because of the bond, he could see their union clearly. _

_It was something he absolutely never wanted to do. _

_"You know the passion that was elicited by him. The moaning. The pleas." _

_The words jolted his mind and flashes of seduction tore through his brain: Trip pushing T'Pol onto the bed of her cabin, candlelight flickering off the walls, as her mouth hung open in ecstasy. _

_Squinting his eyes shut, he tried to blot out that vision. In desperation Archer yelled. _

_"No!" _

_Silencing his mind, he reached for a thread of T'Pol … the one that gave him stability and tranquility. But, the attempts went unanswered. _

_"You're blocking my thoughts," Archer said. The accusation was leveled at Sovok. _

_"No," Sovok said. _

_"She could have had you, if she wanted. But, she did not. And thus she chose him. She prefers him. She always has." _

_Archer remembered. In a moment of weakness, after Porthos had barely recuperated from the illness he'd contracted while on the Kretassan planet, he'd told T'Pol that he'd been attracted to her. Instead of indicating the attraction was mutual, she'd acted coy – he hadn't been sure if she'd reciprocated or not. _

_It wasn't long after that he'd realized it wasn't just lust, it was love. It's probably why hearing about Trip and T'Pol smarted. _

_Heaving, he could feel his face redden. "That was the past." _

_"She mated with you the first time while thinking of him." _

_Archer glanced at the weapon and ran his fingertips along the blade of the lyrpa. He wanted to wield the weapon, slice open Trip's stomach and crush his skull in one single stroke. _

_He'd told Trip, almost point blank, how he'd felt about T'Pol, or at least he'd thought he did. That night, en route to Vulcan, they'd taken a bottle of whiskey to the dark and quiet mess hall. There, Archer admitted he hadn't assigned a new science officer and Trip had seemed to understand. _

_"That was the past!" _

_The words ground out like a growl caught in the back of his throat and were delivered more for his benefit than Sovok's. _

_"And now you believe she cares for you? Vulcans do not easily change their minds." _

_Attempting to ignore Sovok's words, Archer reached out for T'Pol through his bond. He needed her strength and reassurance; he was frantic for it. _

_"Why would she assist you? She obviously cares for Trip." _

_Exasperated that he couldn't sense her, Archer imagined the desert – the light breeze whipping at the particles of sand that covered a barren land at twilight. He needed the calm, the serenity, that T'Pol brought to his mind. _

_Sovok said, "You must fight your friend or lose T'Pol." _

_Still. The desert was still – the clouds were fixed in their hazy position and the sand stayed intact in its place … every grain. Peaceful. Quiet. It was more silent than the sea, even at depth, and more tranquil than floating in the darkness at the bottom. He envisioned sitting in the lotus position as he had seen T'Pol do. _

_"You would let this man have her?" Sovok said. _

_Freeing himself of anger, Archer felt the air against his skin – it was hot and dry with a hint of night's coolness. _

_Composed, Jonathan's voice resembled perfect logic. "If T'Pol is intent on having Trip, she can … if that's what makes her happy. But, I don't believe it." _

_With another deep breath and more focus, he stared into the sky as the pink hues began to overtake clouds of swirling red and two suns fell in the sky. It was strange. Despite her absence he _felt_ her there. It was a whisper – so faint … so hushed – and yet revitalizing. The wind carried the information: she may not be present, but he would always hear her. _

_Calling back, he said a few words. "I am a jealous man, sometimes a foolish one. I have pride and other distasteful emotions that lead to distrust and anger. But I'm human. And because I'm human, I can give her affection, tenderness, care and love. And it is these things she seeks from me." _

_Sovok walked the dune to join him. "You find refuge here?" _

_He smiled. "She has a way of grounding me. I came here looking for that." _

_"Did you find it?" _

_The question hung in his mind. Indeed, his soul seemed satisfied … quenched even. He had forgotten about the image of T'Pol's mouth on Trip's. And even as it popped into his brain, he didn't seem to mind – it was an illusion. _

_What felt real: moments like this morning. The two of them together – on the bridge, in his ready room or intertwined in each other's arms. She was his soulmate. That was a constant. _

_Coming here, waiting for her, reminded him that they were never parted. He didn't need to imagine a desert to get that refuge; he only needed to feel the light hum of the bond that was always there – always touching him. _

_"I suppose," Archer finally answered. _

_"Fascinating." _

Sovok's hand fell away from his face and Archer opened his eyes. Everything – Trip – it all seemed so real. Too real. As the uncle stood, T'Pol who'd apparently been there for some time, rushed to Archer's side.

"Are you all right?" T'Pol asked.

Before he could ask what the hell happened, Sovok began to pepper him with questions.

"You did not choose violence, even though I could feel it well inside of you. Why?"

With T'Pol's help, he managed to make it to his feet. "Trip's my friend."

"You could tell it was an illusion?" Sovok asked.

"I don't know."

"And yet the thought of losing T'Pol sparked your anger. You showed jealousy toward your friend," Sovok said. "But you contained it … more so than you did the previous day."

Archer swallowed deeply. "I trust T'Pol. I know she wouldn't hurt me. I don't think Trip would either … not on purpose."

"Hmmmm," Sovok replied. "T'Pol, you asked Archer not to come?"

Her hand worried over Archer's face, stroking away sweat. Although speaking to her uncle, she continued to focus on her mate.

"I did not want him to face further upset or pain. I know this has been extremely challenging for him."

Archer stared into her eyes and felt the same hum that had been there … as well as her disapproval for not obeying her wishes. He produced a little smiled all the same – at the bond and at her. And despite being in the presence of her relatives who eschewed emotion, he gave her a small kiss.

Sovok interrupted with disdain. "I will have my answer to you tonight. The challenge is over," he said.

Without any further explanation or even excusing himself, he walked through the open corridors into a courtyard in the back of the house, one that was barely visible from where everyone stood.

V'Lin's eyebrows knitted as she watched. "This is unexpected."

T'Pol asked, "Why?"

The aunt hesitated. "We had anticipated this to continue for two more days." Leaning toward her niece, she said a few words the couple feared. "It does not look promising."

Archer watched T'Pol's shoulder's fall and her eyes meet the floor. With ferocity in her voice, she spoke with unrestrained emotion.

"I am not prepared to let this go unchallenged."

V'Lin raised an eyebrow. "When he makes his decision – it cannot be changed."

Without defeat the Vulcan walked to the back and stood next to her uncle. The two began to talk, and from what Archer could see it didn't look like it was going well. As Archer took a few steps toward them, V'Lin caught his arm.

"Let her speak to him alone, Jonathan."

When he opened his mouth to explain they should challenge this together, V'Lin added a few ominous words.

"She has made the situation worse. You will only exacerbate matters. There is nothing you can do now, except wait."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Part 14 **

A/N: Archangemon: Good stuff! You're spot on about Archer knew that T'Pol had feelings for Trip. He just didn't want to remember it that way. I don't think Archer is an ego maniac, but (as much as I love the character) he does have a solid ego – at least I think so. And you're very right; he's made a lot of sacrifices. T'Pol has made very few. I think this chapter will explain more on that.

* * *

T'Pol walked out into the courtyard. The area was always one of her favorites and was used for meditation and reflection. The wandering terracotta-colored tile that lay against the tiny chiseled rocks, the deep red of the ty'ma plant that fanned out like an iris and a small, bubbling fountain in the back were something even she would say was -- beautiful.

As she turned to him, he acknowledged her presence without turning her head, staring into the day-time sky.

"T'Pol, it seems he understands the complexity of the bond. Although I doubt he will ever be comfortable with being able to see, with clarity, moments of your past, I believe he has accepted them."

She narrowed her eyes. "You'll rule in our favor?"

He remained silent.

T'Pol said, "V'Lin indicated you would most likely rule against us."

Nothing.

"Sovok?" she asked. "You've indicated that Jonathan accepts information. Isn't that key to the bond?"

The man gave a slow nod. "Yes. Acceptance is of paramount importance in a bond."

"So you will rule in our favor?" she said.

"No."

"Pardon me?"

"I said, 'no.'" Turning, his dark eyes stared into hers.

"Why?"

Sovok raised an eyebrow. "My concern does not lie with Archer."

"I don't understand."

"I know," he said.

She spoke a few words – they weren't a challenge, merely a statement. "I don't need your permission to join with him."

He faced her, a bland expression on his features. "Then why do you seek it?"

Strolling away, as if he wanted to be left alone, he walked further into his courtyard. T'Pol gave a near frown and stared down at her feet.

_One time while playing in the courtyard, she skinned her knee tearing the flesh enough to watch the wound pour green liquid. Giving a firm pout, she tried to stifle her cries – she'd been told suppression was the appropriate thing to do. After only a few minutes of sitting on the ground huffing and puffing -- trying to contain her emotions -- her uncle joined her. _

_"What are you doing?" Sovok asked. _

_"I am attempting to control my emotions." _

_"It hurts, does it not?" _

_"My knee?" She blew at her kneecap. _

_"No, controlling your emotions." _

_She nodded feebly. "Sometimes it seems the harder I try to suppress my feelings, the more powerful they become." _

_A smile lit in his eyes. "That will always be true. Fortunately, you will not always want to cry over scraped knees." _

_"I already that lesson. I have wanted to shed tears over burns and bruises as well. They are painful, too." _

_Licking his lips, as they twitched, he crouched down. "No, the most challenging is the pain of emotion – saying goodbye to a friend or colleague, watching an animal or a person suffer, seeing a relative die and the feeling of you have disappointed someone you respect." _

_"I have not witnessed those yet." _

_Stroking her hair in a rare moment of kindness, he agreed. "One day you will." _

_"Have you skinned your knee?" she asked. It was still difficult for her. The blood was running down her leg. _

_"Many times," he said. _

_She puffed her lip as tears clung to her eyes. _

_"If you feel the urge so strongly, perhaps you should give in. You are still young," he said. _

_"I cannot. Father will see me and scold me for it." _

_Picking her up, he said a few words. "If you cry into my shoulder, your father will not see your tears." _

_She buried her face into his robes. _

_He whispered, "I believe I have something that will help your knee." _

_As little tears left her eyes and drenched his shoulder, he admitted something quietly to her. "Perhaps petting our selhat will quiet your emotions, too." _

Sovok was stern, stoic and emotionless. But, there was sometimes a tenderness to him; even now his words seemed like a hint or a clue. She closed her eyes and meditated to glean the answer.

* * *

V'Lin poured tea into three ceramic mugs as Archer attempted to rub away the ache behind his eyes.

Saaya gripped one mug and quietly spoke. "I remember when Sovok and I were matched. We were seven years old. I am unaware of what human children are like, Archer, but … as a child I had no concept of what marriage would mean."

Archer smiled. "Human children aren't different. Although, I remember when I was seven there was a girl who tried to kiss me. It was behind the school near the playground. I pretended that I didn't enjoy it."

V'Lin tipped a brow. "I did not realize humans began mating rituals so young."

He hid a laugh. "No …. Not mating. On Earth kissing between children is innocent."

"Then why kiss?" V'Lin asked.

He shrugged. "Show affection I guess. Maybe even practice for when it's not innocent."

"Practice?" Saaya asked.

The Vulcan woman exchanged a disapproving glance as Archer realized this is why humans were seen as hedonistic barbarians. Deciding to steer the conversation away from himself, he threw out a question.

"Why are children matched at seven?" he asked.

Saaya explained. "It is at this age that children begin to learn the art of suppressing their emotions; they are emotionally prepared to share their katras in a bond. And it is to … honor … the seven-year cycles of Pon Farr."

_Sounds logical,_ he thought.

"All children are matched?" Archer asked.

"Most," V'Lin said. "Not all. Some Vulcans believe the one who will share that bond is sought rather than selected."

"Must be difficult. Vulcans don't seem to believe in dating," he said.

With amusement in her eyes, V'Lin whispered to him. "Vulcans can satisfy the Pon Farr without … dating. That is how I met my betrothed."

A lop-sided smile wormed its way onto his face. He got the feeling she was sharing intimate information, but enjoying it. And for once in his life, he didn't mind the girl-talk. Vulcan women went light on the details and easy on the gossip.

"So, you helped him …."

"He helped me," she said, correcting him.

"And you … knew?" he asked.

"Not right away. And yet, how I felt about him defied logic."

Sipping his tea, he thought this was getting good.

"When my mating cycle was over, I was … disappointed."

"Disappointed?" he asked. He didn't want the details, but he wanted to make sure ….

"I felt … unhappy that our union had ended."

"I see. What happened?" he asked.

"I contacted him for her," Saaya confessed. "I understood her dilemma. I suggested to Stev that V'Lin was experiencing … side effects."

V'Lin looked into her mug. "I did not understand. I believed I wanted to focus solely on my career."

Archer scrunched his eyebrows together as Saaya stood taller, rebuking the silent accusation. "What I told Stev wasn't necessarily a lie. The side effects were deep care."

V'Lin's eyes glittered. "It is not unusual when the mating time has ended for waves of the madness to pass over a Vulcan. They do not burn the insides as Pon Farr does, but they can be … uncomfortable. He came right away."

"I take it you didn't really experience these side effects?" he asked.

"I had side effects, but perhaps not the ones from Pon Farr. We were wed within the week."

"How did you know he was your bondmate?" Archer asked.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "I … knew."

Grinning at her, he agreed. "I know exactly what you mean."

"I suspected you might," she agreed.

His jaw dropped open. Suddenly things began to come into focus. Not only was T'Pol's aunt less traditional, but perhaps she was helpful because she understood their plight.

"You scolded T'Pol for --" he began.

V'Lin shook her head mildly. "She willingly chose; she was not driven to mate. On Vulcan, that is a very important distinction."

"On Earth, it's not uncommon for coupling, even with those who aren't your spouse, before marrying. Humans are driven to that biological need. I can't imagine Vulcans are so dissimilar."

"Jonathan, Vulcans are not humans. It is the suppression of that drive and other emotions that make us who we are."

He frowned and she explained in more detail. "When Vulcans give into that need, outside Pon Farr, it is believed they do so because they have found their bondmate."

Nodding, he was beginning to understand why the family was in an uproar.

"T'Pol's not a typical Vulcan," he said.

Saaya agreed too readily. "No, she is not. She never has been."

"Living aboard a ship full of humans who act on their biological needs must've been challenging. Perhaps our customs --"

"She is still expected to act like a Vulcan," V'Lin said.

Archer hung his head. "No leeway?"

"Of course there is. She does not need our approval to wed."

"I know the consequences if she doesn't get it," he said.

She agreed. "Yes. You understand the importance of this to her and have done everything within your power to see she receives approval. I believe that is one of the things I like most about you."

Saaya leaned in, as if to divulge a state secret. "I am also rather … impressed … with you."

He smiled. "Well, glad I have _your _seal of approval."

Saaya's expression turned mild, as if she suppressed more information. "I believe Sovok is not unhappy with you as T'Pol's choice."

A strange smile overcame his face. "So, what's the deal?"

V'Lin poked her eyebrow into the air. "More tea?"

"Maybe I should go out there," Jon said. As he turned on his heel to step outside, V'Lin reached her hand around his bicep and Saaya pushed his mug forward toward the tea kettle.

"Pour more tea, V'Lin," she said.

* * *

T'Pol padded her feet after Sovok finally finding him on some throw pillow outside in front of a long candle. It is Vulcan ritual that one is never to be disturbed while meditating. And yet, she found herself leaning in.

"Sovok," she said. Her tone was impatient.

"You were never one to let things go," he remarked. His steely eyes rested on hers and he offered her a seat on the throw pillow next to him.

"I disagree with your assessment."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Jonathan and I care about each other deeply."

The Vulcan's face remained unchanged. Blandly, he asked a few questions. "Have you met his family?" Sovok asked.

T'Pol shook her head. "No, he has no family. Both parents have died."

"Aunts and uncles?" he asked.

T'Pol knitted her brow. "Not that he is close to."

"Are they alive?" he asked.

She fought the recesses of her brain and only after several seconds came up with an answer. "He has an uncle in Wyoming."

"You went to a banquet with him. You were … embarrassed."

"He murmured my name among my colleagues. As if we were … lovers."

"But, you are and you were before that celebration."

T'Pol wanted to sigh, but refrained from indulging in it. Sitting next to him, she watched as he continued to grill her.

"When faced with pain and suffering, you turned away from him?" he asked.

"V'Lar?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I needed to prepare – it was important that I maintain my heritage." Challenging him with her eyes, she noticed he didn't rebuke that.

"And your children. If you have them, what heritage will they maintain?" he asked.

She blinked quickly. "It is improbable we will have children."

"Not impossible."

"Very well, if we have children, we will raise them according to both cultures."

The older man leveled his eyes on her. "Have you asked him his feelings on this matter?"

T'Pol's eyes frowned. "No."

"How do you know that is the proper action, then?"

She folded her legs, sitting Indian style. "We would meet each other half-way. It seems logical."

"I see."

There was disapproving quiet.

"T'Pol, do you know why you entered a mating cycle early?"

The Vulcan swallowed. "No."

"You engaged in sexual relations before your cycle was due."

She waited for more information.

"Seven months after mating outside Pon Farr happens, the cycle is triggered."

"So, my Pon Farr had something to do with …."

"Commander Tucker? Yes."

She watched the sunset that was only now showing. A pink hue scattered along the sky, dousing the swirling red clouds in a golden hue. As she looked out at the descending suns, an emotion – one that had been running rampant for some time -- crushed her chest: guilt.

"I was unaware," she said.

"It is also released when you return to Vulcan or find your bondmate. I am attempting to determine which is applicable to you."

Swallowing, she nodded. "I hope you know, I care for Jonathan. My urge to mate may have ramifications from another, but no one save him stirs me or my emotions."

Without agreeing or disagreeing, he leaned forward. "Let me probe into your mind."

She hesitated, and then agreed with a single head bob. Holding out her chin with defiance, she waited for him to take control of her mind.

_Dressed in a leather jacket, Archer entered into the Chinese restaurant near the bay. It was quiet, secluded – and far away from the press or anyone else who had any questions about what might happen in the Expanse. _

_"Hi!" he heard as he walked in. _

_"Rebecca!" _

_He smiled at a 36-year old blonde in a clingy black dress that gave a small wave and walked to her. Throwing their arms around each other, they hugged and then gave each other a peck. When the peck was over, they awkwardly sat down. _

_"Your friend … Sharon?" he asked. At the time he'd called to meet up with Rebecca, her friend's whereabouts were unknown. With seven million people or more dead, it meant if someone hadn't responded to family or friends by now, chances were good they didn't make it. _

_"She contacted me this morning. She wasn't in the part of Venezuela that was hit." _

_Archer's visage brightened. "What a relief." _

_"Yeah," she said. "She was doing research, deep in the jungles in the area. She thought she felt an earthquake. She had no idea …." _

_Her face was a mixture of pain and thankfulness. _

_A waiter, one they'd known for years, welcomed them and offered to bring their favorites. With a head nods and smiles, both agreed easily and he hurried off to the kitchen. _

_As soon as he'd left, Beck seemed to get to the primary item worrying her. _

_"I knew as soon as you contacted me that you've been asked to do something about this. Haven't you?" _

_She clearly meant the attack. Nudging his glass forward by centimeters, she'd filled in the rest of the blanks. _

_"I knew it," she said. Her hands worked their way toward his and a frown overtook her face. _

_He reached his hand around hers. "It's okay." _

_Worry in her voice, she said, "I heard an update to the count: 6 million." _

Although he knew it was higher, he didn't correct her. "Starfleet is going to do everything in its power –"

_A tear managed to make it's way to her eye and then stream down her face. It was that emotion that made him want to hold her, reassure her. _

_Catching her tears on his thumb he stared at her. And before he realized the words had formed on his lips, he whispered them to her. _

_"Everything will be okay." _

_"No it won't," she said. _

_The water collecting in her eyes spilled faster and her lips quivered. _

_"I'll be okay," he whispered. His hand cupped her face, letting the tears stream onto it. _

_She rubbed her thumb across his hand. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she ended her crying. Brushing her hand against her own face, she looked down into her lap. He'd seen her cry when her brother died, but never before that and never after – even in their arguments and misunderstandings. _

_"Sorry, I know the last thing you wanted was someone blubbering about …" _

_"You're beautiful," he said, interrupting her. _

_It took her off guard and she spent a few minutes studying the tablecloth. _

_"You haven't run into any good-looking female aliens this year?" she asked. _

_She asked that every year, despite the fact they hadn't been seeing each other for four years. Counting the one on his bridge, he smirked. _

_ "A few." _

_With something a little darker, she leaned on her elbows. "I don't suppose you're seeing any of them?" _

_Unsure of his smile, he produced one anyway. "No." _

_"Good." _

_Staring down at her empty plate, she shook her head. And then once she had, she stared into his eyes and he couldn't help but stare back. When the waiter carried two plates back to them, Archer copped a bold move. _

_Intercepting the man, he asked a question he hadn't cleared with the woman sharing the table. _

_"Can we have these to go?" _

_Her lips swept up in a smile and he grinned back at her like it was plastered on his face. When two bags were produced, he took them into his fingers and stood – hurried to leave. _

_"You still live around here?" _

_She tossed her coat on and headed out the door. "No." _

_Hailing a shuttlecar taxi, the two disappeared into it and began to kiss. When the vehicle finally stopped, he couldn't believe it had already arrived – the two had seemingly kissed for minutes … not several minutes bordering on an hour. When arriving at her doorstep the two walked up three flights of steps – hardly noticing the distance – thanks to frequent and urgent embraces. Dropping the containers of Chinese at the door, most likely spilling their contents, her hand slid around his and led him to the back room. _

_"Oh, God, Jon," she whispered into his ear, pulling him into the back to a bedroom. _

_Kissing her neck, he fumbled to pull her blouse over her head. When he did, she joked with him. _

_"You act like you haven't done this since …." _

_That was a little more than two years ago, a few weeks before he left on Enterprise. Rushing his hands over her, he could tell she got the impression that was probably the truth. _

_He shoved her body closer and felt his hormones wreak havoc as he kissed her frantically. Lips pressed against her throat, he lowered her to the bed while trying to ignore the disturbing flashes of someone else who occupied his mind. A glimpse of a woman with dark brown hair and mysterious amber eyes entered his brain and then vanished. _

_Shaking his head, he edged back. _

_"What?" she asked, naked in front of him. _

_"I don't know if this is the right thing to do." _

_She stroked her hand down his chest. "Does it feel right?" _

Oh God yes, _he thought_.

_The two connected in a way that felt familiar and easy – and they relied on roles that had long past. They seemingly lived in the moment and shared comfort in another body …. Beck was right about one thing: chances were good he wouldn't come back. _

T'Pol paused and gave a near-frown. She didn't like knowing the information that lay buried in Jonathan's mind, nor did she like that she felt compelled to review it.

"This scene bothers you?" Sovok asked.

It would be a lie to deny it. "Yes."

"You know it happened in his past."

"Yes."

After watching her uncle hesitate, waiting for more information, T'Pol riased both brows in an epiphany.

"Perhaps what troubles me is – I met this woman."

His eyebrow poked up. "I see. You have an emotion about this?"

"Yes. Jealousy."

_After their union, she snuggled into his arms and he held her staring out the window at the San Francisco city view – the thousands of lights illuminating the sky. _

_"I've missed you," she whispered. _

_He smirked and kissed the top of her blonde head. "Me, too." _

_"So, have you …?" she asked. _

_"What?" _

_"You know …." _

_He squinted his eyes and stared at her. Suddenly, he raised his eyebrows. "You mean …?" _

_"Yeah." _

_Biting the side of his cheek, he stared back out the window. "Not since we were together last." _

_She pushed back from him. "Really?" _

_He shrugged. "Not a lot of opportunities, Beck." _

_"Was it just about opportunity?" _

_His cheek sloped, but he shook his head. _

_"You found someone?" she asked. _

_"Not really," he explained. When she seemed to stew on the information, he prompted her. "Let it go." _

_"Who's the pretty communications officer I met – the one you were trying to recruit?" _

_"_Ensign_ Sato!" _

_"Sato? Yeah, that one." _

_He shook his head as a laugh made it to his throat. "No. No way." _

_"Why not?" _

_"Well, first she's an _ensign_ and I mean … come on. She's … a kid." _

_Her mouth opened as if to grill him when he fidgeted. _

_"This feels weird, can we just drop it?" he asked. _

_"What feels weird?" _

_"This! I'm in bed with you, I don't want to talk about other women." _

_"It's not like we're in love." _

It never was, sadly. _"Shhh," he whispered into her hair. _

_Rebecca became quiet, settling against his chest. Suddenly, she began talking again. "You wrote me about this 'irritating Vulcan know-it-all.' What about her?" _

_He sighed. "Leave it alone." _

_She pouted briefly, but nuzzled her cheek against his skin and he felt his hands in her hair. _

_"It's her, huh? I've never known someone to get under your skin like that." _

_He sighed. "Drop it." _

_The two became quiet for a few moments, and as Archer stroked Rebecca's hair, he thought about T'Pol. He wondered whether her hair would be coarse or fine – the strands gliding through his fingers with ease. He wondered what her hair smelled like and what it would feel like pursed against his lips. For a moment, just a second, he imagined that she wouldn't mind nuzzling against his skin either – her green tinted cheek meshed flush against his golden skin. With guilt he stopped the flights of fancy. _

_"I met someone," she said. _

_Jon swallowed. "You did?" _

_"Three months ago, right after the attack … actually I didn't meet him …. He was a friend." _

_"Don't tell me, another attorney?" _

_She smiled. "Maybe. At least _he's_ interested in politics." _

_"It's serious?" _

_Rebecca frowned. "Don't know." _

_His finger lazily stroked her cheek. "Then why are here you with me, Beck?" he asked. _

_"I could ask you the same question." _

_He frowned a little back, and then very sincerely – more so than she'd been all night – she stared into his eyes. _

_"I know you're not coming back, Jon." _

_That was his reasoning, too. His fingers curled around her chin and he swallowed deeply. _

_"Admit it. I've known you for almost what … ten …." _

_"Eleven," he corrected. _

_"Exactly. I know that you're scared too." _

_His lips found hers._

T'Pol stared at her uncle.

"Why did you show me this?" she asked.

"It is in your mind." Sovok raised his brows.

"I don't understand."

"I believed it to be apparent."

She scooted on the pillow and rested her hands on her knees, thinking. "I'm sure it's to show me that I am not the only one who was involved with someone else."

The man stood, hung his head to his chest and clasped his hands behind his back. As he strolled back to the house, T'Pol hustled behind him.

"That was not the point of the exercise?"

He turned to her and stared into her eyes, silent.

"It was to show me that he has loved me for some time?" she asked.

The Vulcan didn't blink.

"I already knew that," she said.

Sovok continued to stare and T'Pol traced her thoughts back to the meld. The ability to hear her own voice as well as Jonathan's was interesting … and confusing.

_Archer left Rebecca's apartment, straightening his collar as she kissed him goodbye at the door. He hated to say anything more, so as he walked away he told her something he wasn't sure was true._

_"I'll talk with you soon."_

_Producing a sad smile she agreed and he felt her watch him walk away. Stepping onto the elevator, he looked back once as she waved, a little teary eyed, and he waved back with more joviality – at least he pretended as much. After the doors closed he sank against the elevator._

_Everything is so wrong, __he thought. _

_The attack on Earth was iniquitous. Going into the Expanse was wrong. Sleeping with Rebecca, especially knowing neither were really in love, was messed up, but at least he could accept that they'd shared some physical intimacy because they were friends. Leaving her teary eyed, pretending to smile was just as phony._

_Slouching, he stared at the wall. He gave his crew a few days to settle their affairs back home, but arranged that he would be back on Enterprise before the others got back. It was his role as captain to begin work, and in order to find a species in a remote and dangerous part of space, he'd need to head back early._

_Maybe his crewmen would fare better – have more loved ones to say goodbye too, even._

_After the shuttle made its way to Enterprise, he headed back to his room. Just as he started unpacking and feeling the strangle of command take a hold of him, his chime rang._

_At the door was T'Pol, dressed in her usual attire and sparking a raised eyebrow._

_"Your visit went well?"_

_No, __he thought. "Fine."_

_Waiting, she nodded._

_"Your trip?" he asked. "Soval seemed eager to talk with you."_

_With a slight pause, she looked down at the floor. "I've been reassigned."_

_"What?"_

_She could hear him drop a few things. It caused her to look down at the shaving kit lying on the floor and then into his eyes._

_ "I've been recalled to Vulcan."_

_He was silent – mouth agape._

_"The ambassador believes this mission is foolhardy and dangerous."_

_"I see."_

_The two stared at each other until T'Pol decided to break the quiet with an update._

_"I also wanted to indicate that the report on --"_

_"T'Pol," he said._

_"Yes?"_

_He narrowed his eyes._

_"Is there something the matter?" she asked._

_"Yeah, you're leaving." After waiting for a few minutes, he tapped the top of his duffle bag and stared at the contents. "I mean, I think we should talk about it."_

_"What is there to say?" she asked._

_Throwing a shirt from his duffle bag on the bed, he sighed. "Nothing I guess."_

_He kept his head and his eyes trained on the bed. Finally, heaving his chest, he put a hand on his hip._

_Unsure of what to do, she tried to resume her report. "As per Commander Tucker's specifications the …."_

_"I just can't believe you're leaving."_

_"I hardly have a recourse."_

_Gazing up for the first time in minutes, she noted his eyes never looked greener. "I'm not disagreeing with them, T'Pol."_

_Silence._

_Closing in, he loomed over her small frame and took a deep breath. "I can't believe I'm saying it, but … I think I agree with Soval on this one."_

_Her eyebrow poked up._

_He gave a mild smile._

_Furrowing her brow suddenly, she crossed her arms and explained in painstaking detail the conversation she had with the ambassador, including the cold and calculated logic and reason behind his decision._

_Jonathan nodded throughout the discussion, agreeing with every point._

"You want me to disagree with you?" T'Pol asked. In a way, when she was delivering the information to the captain, she'd wanted him to oppose her.

Her uncle was almost seemed startled, but managed to regain his composure quickly. Shaking his head, he stared at the tiles. "T'Pol –"

"You wonder why I chose to remain on Enterprise?" She was peppering him with questions.

Sovok didn't chime in, but perched forward only slightly. "Why did you?"

"It seemed the logical thing to do."

_After delivering what she deemed were debatable items to his attention, she finally gave up on the idea he would quibble with her._

_"I can always disagree," she volunteered._

_"I don't think you should."_

_A question was left in her eyes, and he answered it._

_"I think it's for the best."_

_Staring at him, she found him suddenly looking at his shoes._

_"It'll be a difficult mission."_

_Before she could say anything more, he spoke again. "I mean to say …." He sighed and tried to speak his peace again. "I just think it's better you go back to Vulcan."_

_The two stood and watched each other and he finally hurled an uneasy smile in her direction. "It's not … it's not that I won't miss you. Because I will. In fact … I'll miss you a lot."_

_They gazed at each other, and something bubbled in her stomach. The emotion was unfamiliar, but evident. As she tried to ponder the feeling, Archer spoke again._

_"Listen, maybe the two of us can just spend a little time together before you leave."_

_She didn't respond._

_"We practically have the whole ship to ourselves anyway … and I need to go over a few things with you before the crew returns … before you leave."_

_She quipped an eyebrow._

_Producing a lop-sided smile, he stared at her through half-lidded eyes. "I just thought it might be nice … before you go."_

_Blinking slowly, before realizing it, she agreed to whatever he had planned. Somehow as he bent his head to his chest and remarked on dinners with some of her favorite human (and yet vegetarian) cuisine, she got the distinct feeling that he was pleased … maybe more than he'd indicated._

"I've stayed aboard Enterprise because I've cared about my shipmates and their planet. I did not want to see Earth destroyed."

Sovol looked into her eyes. "Is that the only reason?"

T'Pol's gaze drifted down. "No."

"Commander Tucker?"

_Dinner with the captain, alone, was strange__. During the candlelit meal, he talked about quarters for the MACOs – a group of soldiers from another branch of the military – in a soft voice. And, his glances were long and lingering with something like a light shining in his eyes. To contradict what gleamed in his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned down almost imperceptibly._

_When the arrangements for the crew's living spaces were decided on, he began to bring up refurbishments while poking at his uneaten meal._

_"Captain?" she said, interrupting.  
_

_"Yes?"_

_"You haven't eaten."_

_"Not hungry I guess." He sipped his tea._

_There was one question he hadn't answered that seemed critical to his success … or failure._

_"Do you have a plan for what to do once you enter the Delphic Expanse?"_

_He bowed his head and his fork poked at his food. "Not as such."_

_Her eyebrows raised._

_Smiling, he stopped her. "I'm formulating it, T'Pol."_

_The discussion about refurbishments continued and the meal came to an end. As she walked out of the door to head back to her room, she'd realized the primary emotion she felt was: aggravation. The detailed information about their mission, the additional weapons, the soldiers … all the data about the Expanse _bothered_ her._

_Strolling along to Sickbay, she decided to talk with Dr. Phlox._

"Aggravation?" Sovok asked.

"Yes."

"He hadn't come up with a plan?" Sovok asked.

"I cannot remember the exact circumstances of the feeling."

"You talked with Dr. Phlox?"

"Yes," she said.

"You agreed to go into the Expanse because of what the doctor indicated?" Sovok asked.

Reaching into the recesses of her mind, she shook her head almost involuntarily. "No."

_The captain was somber. Tucker was scheduled to arrive the next day, and the captain already seemed concerned about the young man, starting the conversation with a few stories about him. When he'd finished, he murmured a little about Elizabeth – mostly things she'd already known._

_"His sister was 24." He paused staring at his food. "What a shame."_

_She agreed with a simple head nod. Sipping her tea she, felt the room grow eerily silent. At the moment she was about to engage in what she deemed was "small talk," the man next to her spoke almost in a whisper._

_"There are a lot of people depending on me, counting on me."_

_She looked into his eyes. "Yes."_

_Sighing, he drank his coffee._

_"You will not disappoint them," she said. It was an unspoken fear, but she knew it hung in his mind. _

_He threw her a warm smile, staring into her eyes._

_"All of the crew should return tomorrow," she said._

_"I hope they had a chance to say goodbye," he said._

_She knew there was more finality to his statement than he let on._

_"Did you?" she asked._

_"Pardon me?"_

_"Did you have a chance to say goodbye?"_

_"Where?"_

_An eyebrow raised. "On Earth. In San Francisco – you were there two days."_

_"Oh. Yes."_

_A wholly inappropriate question left her lips. "Family?"_

_He gave a small grunt. "No, friend."_

_She pressed the mug to her lips again._

_"I don't really have any family," he said._

_She'd known about his father, but that was the breadth of her knowledge about his relatives._

_"You dislike goodbyes," she said. It wasn't clear why she named his hatred for it._

_"I'm glad we're saying goodbye," he said._

_Narrowing her eyes, she agreed. "Yes."_

"Why did you stay aboard Enterprise?" Sovok asked.

T'Pol remembered everyone coming back aboard – once that happened the dinners and private conversations came to an end. The man had jumped into action and began spending more time in the newly built command center, trying to formulate a plan. She'd spoken with Dr. Phlox again, but it wasn't needed, she'd already come a decision: she'd resign her post.

"I didn't want them to leave without me."

"Why?"

T'Pol's lips twitched. "I believed they had a better chance of survival if I helped them."

"Them?"

"Yes, the crew."

The niece and uncle watched each other.

_After her discussion with Dr. Phlox she was more than half-tempted to stop by Archer's cabin and tell him that she'd planned on resigning her post. She knew he'd been avoiding her for a couple of days. In fact, he'd made every attempt to avoid reviewing the science officer candidates or any discussion with her._

_Every time he passed her station, her mouth hung open waiting to break the news to him. And every pass he made by her area, he flatly ignored her. Finally three hours before he was scheduled to see her, he dodged into his Ready Room and remained there with orders not to be disturbed._

She admitted the truth – something only now becoming clear. "I wanted Captain Archer to be successful."

"Oh?" Sovok asked.

That statement wasn't entirely correct, and the idea lighted in her brain like a fire.

"No … I wanted him to return home. I thought he had a better likelihood if I stayed."

Sovok nodded. "Yes."

The woman blinked understanding the impact of her statement.

"Then why Commander Tucker?" Sovok asked.

_After providing neuropressure to the young man, she watched his bare chest rise and fall. When he looked at her with his deep blue eyes, and grinned a bright, white smile, something in her stomach felt warm._

_"Neuropressure went successfully tonight I take it?" she asked._

_"Yeah, I think I'll sleep like a baby."_

_"You'll come over tomorrow night then, I take it?"_

_Stretching out on her bed, he nodded. "Don't need to convince me."_

_While she was pondering this, the man in her bed leaned up and put on hand behind his head._

_"You ever feel lonely?"_

_The question took her by surprise. Fixing her robe to her more securely, she watched him as he explained more._

_"I mean, you haven't seen your own kind in a while."_

_That wasn't exactly true; she'd seen her own race – they'd turned into insane lunatics whose primary goal was to destroy her and her fellow crewman. It was a vision that sometimes awakened her and caused her head to throb._

_T'Pol licked her lips. "I sometimes feel … alone. Yes."_

_His eyes became half-lidded. "I think everyone does."_

_"You do?" she asked._

_He sighed. "With Lizzie gone? Yeah, sometimes. I used to hear from her about once a week. I kinda miss her letters."_

_She understood that to be the case, and simply nodded. Filling in more information, he gazed at her. "I think I've been feeling lonely in other ways."_

_An eyebrow poked up at the statement. __"I think the captain has also become aloof."_

_"Yeah," Trip said, sitting up. "I tried to talk to him, but … well, let's just say he's focused."_

_"The mission is important."_

_"You don't have to tell me," he said. Reaching for his shirt, he wiggled into it._

_"It concerns me he seems willing to sacrifice so much for it."_

_"The mission? Yeah." With hesitation, he added, "You're talking about that Ossarian ?"_

_She didn't nod, but her eyes remained on him as if she agreed._

_Trip put a hand through his hair. "He's changed."_

_"Commander –"_

_He laughed. "You've been putting your hands on me for a few months. I think you can call me by my first name."_

_Her features eased and she agreed. "Should I call you Charles or Trip?"_

_Smiling, he giggled. "Only my mamma calls me Charles, and usually when I'm in trouble. Trip's just fine."_

_"Very well."_

_As he slipped into his shoes and walked to the door, he turned around. "Ya know, I never thought we'd get to be friends. But, I look forward to spending nights with you these days."_

_The door opened and shut behind him. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she shivered at the emotions that rushed through her: doubt, worry, arousal, grief, joy – so many. They were accessible though touch; they were his emotions and hers whirled together. And at times it was impossible to tell whose thoughts and feelings belonged to whom._

_Breathing deeply, she understood why feelings were sometimes welcomed – they helped one forget about pressing matters. They opened up possibilities._

_Riffling through her drawer -- past undergarments, she produced a tiny rock of trellium. She'd already begun the process of refinement for it – the experiment had been successful. Tonight, she'd try shooting it into her bloodstream to determine the impact._ _Sometimes the rush of the drug made her feel sensual – as if electricity were shooting through her body and curling her toes. Times like these she could understand the need to have a man's hands rush over her body; she understood the barbariac need the humans sometimes had. Times like these she could use the comfort of a casual relationship – one she'd seen other human women, those scared with the idea of their own eminent death, have._

_It's not the Vulcan way,__ she thought._

_And yet, she was not on Vulcan, and she may never return to her birthplace. On unsteady feet, she scuttled down corridors eager to experience the unbridled emotions. As she rounded the corner to the lab, she nearly bumped into someone. Gazing up, she noticed the large figure before her: the captain. Carefully, she placed the rock into her belt._

_"You're up late," he said. A cup of coffee, something he was always armed with these days, hung on his fingers. His eyes were stern and surrounded by large purple circles._

_"Yes. As are you."_

_Taking the mug to his lips, he mumbled into his drink. "Heading to the lab or neuropressure?"_

_Her breath stuttered. "To the lab."_

_Scrunching his brows together, he nodded. "Don't stay up too late. You'll need your rest. Tomorrow, we're …."_

_The rest of the discussion was lost on her. Staring into his eyes, she sometimes remembered snippets of their conversation aboard the Selaya and the words he'd spoken afterward. She sometimes found her mind chanting the words and sentiments he'd conveyed to her in Sickbay._

_"Captain --?"_

_Stopping in mid-sentence, he stared at her. "What?"_

_There were many things to be said – things like how she'd noticed he was irritable all the time, how he'd lost weight, how he'd neglected to show up for the reinstated movie night or how he didn't show up for dinner any more. Instead, she stared down at her feet._

_"I will get to sleep soon."_

_He hadn't invited discussion in the past; it didn't make sense to bring it up now. Without nodding, he turned on his heel and marched down the hall._

_When he was gone, T'Pol noted how silent the ship was, particularly at this time of night. The engines these days, thanks to upgrades, barely purred. There wasn't the chaotic movement of humans, jabbering and laughing in the corridors. Even the occasional whisper of feelings that sometimes reached her had grown quiet. _

_She made it eventually to the lab, processed the trellium and shot it into her neck._

_Sliding down to the floor, she said a few words._

_"Perhaps I'll attempt sexual relations with Commander … Trip."_

_To her keen logic, it made sense. He was handsome, a friend and by the simple touches she gave, she could feel that he wanted her. Experimenting with him would not be undesired by either party. She could share her bed with him, his emotions with him and feel the warmth of another body to comfort her._

_Without realizing it, she began to scheme._

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Very perceptive, Arch.

A/N: I'm sooo sorry it took so long to update this. Here is the conclusion.

-----

The sun lit the sky with a brilliant red haze and Archer watched, mesmerized, by the view. V'Lin and Saaya had kept him preoccupied with discussions of their personal lives; something he never thought they'd share … and something that made him feel more apart of a family.

Drinking his last bit of tea, he waved off another refill and was about to make a beeline for either the bathroom, to let nature take its course, or the patio, to collect T'Pol. The itch to leave was more prevalent than nature, which is why the idea struck him at all. And from the meld, he could feel she was ready to go as well.

"Have I ever told you about the time that T'Pol decided to enter the Vulcan High Command --"

Archer loved childhood T'Pol stories, but even he was wearing thin on them. He'd heard about her riding the family sehlat through the house, how she'd run around – flagrantly showing emotion just as Uncle Salak was in town because of the glee at receiving her first microscope, the disdain she showed when she first met Koss and the interest she'd shown V'Lin in meeting new and exciting aliens.

This one was about the sehlat.

"I think so," Archer said, interrupting V'Lin.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh."

Feeling impatient, he looked out onto their patio. "I should get her."

"Archer, they're talking about you," Saaya said.

He sighed. "I know."

A light sparked in V'Lin's eyes. "Of course you knew."

Saaya leaned on the cabinets. "T'Pol has some issues to resolve."

"Issues?" he asked.

"There … are things she does not yet realize," V'Lin said.

Archer waited for more information, but both aunts were tight-lipped. Trying to give his most charming grin, he decided to forge ahead.

"Like what?"

"More tea?" Saaya asked. "Your name is … Jonathan?"

He smiled. "Yes."

"May I call you that?" the tall woman asked.

"I wish you would."

The two women exchanged glances and then eventually focused their eyes on him. With a wary glance, V'Lin admitted something to him in a voice so low he wasn't sure he caught it.

"The _test_ is not exactly over."

His face scrunched up into doubt as Saaya put the finishing touches on the information.

"Jonathan, what V'Lin means is: you were not the only one being tested."

Everything he'd had to endure to date seemed focused on whether he was a good enough mate. Everything. The climb, the meld showing something that had always bugged him – her past relationship with Trip - and eventually his acceptance were there to test _him_. As a human, it galled to him to a degree, but he'd grinned and bore it because he loved T'Pol and this was important to her.

_I'm not the only one?_

Just as his lips split to speak, V'Lin chimed in.

"Where is the logic is only testing you? The bonding … becoming lifemates … is about partnership."

Saaya gave a slow nod. "Partnership. Balance. They are fundamental to Vulcan life."

"Then why--?"

V'Lin sipped her tea. "Have I told you about the time that T'Pol's uncle--"

She had, but this time he tried to listen with more intrigue.

-------

"Perhaps," she said softly, "Jonathan was unavailable."

The admission hit her like a ton of bricks. She was friends with both men, but at a time of vulnerability when she needed reassurance and comfort Jonathan wasn't around. Trip on the other hand needed comfort as well. When she'd dropped her robe in hopes of seducing him, the man rejoiced in it rather than quoting regulations and scooping the garment back on her shoulders. It's why she chose him initially. Sharing each other's bodies seemed to take their minds away from her drug addiction and their impending doom.

Trip himself had deemed the mission to destroy the Xindi weapon as: a one-way ticket. It meant that no one would return home, and she hadn't – for once – argued with his logic.

Sovok raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Yes. But, Archer told you of his feelings before."

"I thought it was attraction. And I thought those feeling had faded." She also realized, even through the trellium haze, that it would be more difficult to seduce him.

"But, you know differently now."

"Yes." She sighed. "I know differently now."

Sovok stared at her as she recalled various images in her mind – visions that were Jonathan's memories. There were visions of him wandering the corridors purposefully just to pass by her door at night and images of dark green eyes, watching her budding relationship with Trip as he accepted the ache in his heart, hoping the best for his friends.

She even saw into the moment when she'd come to him that night on Enterprise … the one where she came to him in the Mess Hall to ask about him for guidance about her relationship with Trip. This time, she was watching it through his eyes.

_Archer heard the door to Mess Hall open and close. He'd thought it was late enough that he'd have a little time to himself and was almost disappointed when someone crossed the threshold. But, as his weary eyes glanced up and noted it was T'Pol, his heart sputtered. Scanning his watch, he knew this was the time she and Trip met in his quarters and wondered if she'd been taking something with her. Shrugging to himself, as a reminder that he'd already acknowledged the relationship, he caught glimpses of her as he nonchalantly peeked over his book. Admiring her, her figure and the way her long slender hands wrapped around a mug to order tea, he let his lips slope up and then ducked his head back into the book. When she slipped into the seat next to him; it surprised him. Maybe she'd seen the way his eyes glazed over when he looked at her, and she was here to reprimand him._

_With an excuse at the ready, he responded by politely closing his book. _

"_Hey, T'Pol. Didn't expect you to be in here," he said._

"_Nor I," she said._

_Something like a pout was on her face. But, the moment he saw it form, it had disappeared. _

_Within minutes, she began confiding all her relationship issues. As she did, he tried to play the objective friend role – something he'd gotten used to. When the conversation threatened to become more lurid as she'd introduced the idea of her intimacy with Trip, and he saw a crewmen turn around to notice, he offered to take it to his room. _

_He didn't expect her to agree. _

_Under the low lighting of his quarters, and seeing her eyes filled with fear and doubt, he poured himself a glass of whiskey. He gave recommendations – suggestions he was sure she'd already thought of – and she took each one with her head bent. When their discussion came to an end, he considered drawing her to him – to reassure her. He even – albeit briefly – thought about telling her that Trip would be crazy to give her up. But, that wasn't his role tonight, or really any night. So, instead, he tried to comfort her with words and watched her walk out the door._

"He said he told you more than once."

She remembered the time his dog was ill years ago. It was impossible to tell whether it was merely attraction or deeper feelings lay there. "Jonathan and I … it's difficult because we work so closely together. For a human … he holds his emotions close to him."

Sovok remained neutral, but somehow she sensed he agreed.

"I don't regret my time with Trip. In a way it prepared me to better handle a relationship with Jonathan. And the relationship I had with Trip was fulfilling."

"Do you know how bond mates are decided? Do you know why your parents chose Koss?" he said.

An inquisitive brow peaked with interested.

"Parents look at the strengths and weaknesses of their children. They seek someone who is strong in areas where their child is not. The reason Koss was chosen for you is – he is logical, believes in Vulcan tradition and yet can tolerate new ideas and emotion."

That rang true with her.

"Do you believe you and Archer bring that balance?" he asked.

Without having to think, she nodded her head. "Yes."

"Why?"

That was an interesting question.Pondering it, she thought he welcomed her heritage and supported her. He'd been through everything she asked – Pon Farr, the trials … and even if it stung his ego, he was still committed.

"Is that balance?" he asked.

She blinked.

_Trip was a fury of emotion. She'd always likened him to a volcano – passions that built to intensity until they erupted. Emotions - like ash, rock and lava - spilled everywhere with force. When the two of them were together, they were explosive – their arguments frequently led to passion and when their passion was complete it lead to cool logic from her and confusion from him. _

_Although Trip was a good man, he couldn't bring logic to her when she needed it most. And when he was desperate for love and emotion, she couldn't meet his expectations. Interestingly, the characteristics that drew her initially to Tucker – passion, a carefree attitude, wonder – is what drove her to the decision they couldn't be together. Passion soon became indulgence in emotion. A carefree attitude soon equaled ignoring responsibilities. Wonder became immaturity. As a friend, she could relish these things, but not as companion._

_There was something else. In her core, at the center of her being, she was Vulcan … would always be Vulcan, despite the occasional feeling that wormed it's way loose or the warmth she had for her Enterprise friends. Being Vulcan meant bowing to reason, and seeking it as if it were a beacon. It was what she meditated on at the end of each day. It was her quest this fragile equilibrium._

_This balance, walking a tightrope of logic and emotion, is what made her T'Pol. _

_Trip didn't understand that; Jonathan did._

_Working as a team, captain and first officer, they complemented each other. She mostly brought logic and reason to his decisions; she provided datum … facts … numbers … statistics. He brought instinct, passion and conviction to his command. It seemed the blend of weighing the data she proposed and the emotion he felt worked to his advantage and hers; it's when they made their best decisions. She'd counted on his compassion to help V'Lar, despite knowing the Mazzerites had a faster ship and would eventually overtake Enterprise. It didn't surprise her that he'd agreed._

_And, the times she felt distraught by emotion – consumed and overwhelmed by it, he was able to step in and bring reason. When disturbing memories of killing Jossen had overcome her, threatening to prevent her from capturing her last fugative, Menos, … or worse, succumbing to the painful memories … he'd helped her by appealing to her logic. _

_It wasn't just those times. There were too many to mention or name. It was the _essence _of their working relationship. _

_It's also how they became friends. He'd implored her, emotionally, that she should fight the Vulcan High Command's quest to recall her – something that as a captain he should've eschewed. He'd gone into battle of words and egos for her more than once, even when she'd given up herself; it was something that he did mostly for friends, especially for her. _

_Thinking back on events, she hypothesized his skill at using logic was how their relationship matured into romance in the first place. She'd sought his counsel and advice on emotions by coming to discuss whether the human signs Trip exhibited meant he wanted to end their relationship. And, when she'd asked Jonathan, he'd responded to her with reason and objectivity, despite his feelings._

_The humans had a concept for this: ying and yang. She was feminine. Archer was masculine. She brought mostly logic to their relationship. He brought mostly emotion. And yet she had tinges of emotion and Archer had a firm grasp of logic. _

_She was the desert. He was the sea. _

_They belonged together, as if made for each other. _

_Her katra rejoined in him. _

_Balance._

Sovok raised his eyebrows. "The ancients believed that the world was created by two beings – a man and a woman. The woman spread herself over the horizons. And the man spread himself over the land. They were pressed so tightly against each other nothing could separate them. These two were the only certainties to life. That is the essence of balance."

"Yes," she whispered. "I believe I understand. Physically, mentally and emotionally, Jonathan and I are well balanced."

Sovok stared into her eyes. "I believe you do understand."

Her uncle was about to stand, when T'Pol pointed a brow at him. "What next?"

"I do not understand your meaning," he said.

"And that is all? You will not question my thoughts?"

"I can see in your eyes that you have gained understanding." His eyes twinkled strangely. "Besides, how much more difficult do you want this to be?"

T'Pol swallowed, when he spoke again.

"Your greatest challenge is ahead of you – remembering that balance draws you together. It makes for a strong foundation in marriage."

"Marriage?" she asked.

"You wanted my consent. I give it."

She was tempted to hug her uncle to her, but instead, clasped her hands behind her back and walked into the kitchen. Interrupting her two aunts talking, she leaned over and held her fingers up to her bond mate. When their hands separated, she stared lovingly into his eyes and cupped his cheek with her hand to caress it.

"You mean everything to me," she whispered.

He smirked. "I love you, too." Glancing around the room, he tried to downplay his emotions and attempt to save her some embarrassment.

_Part of accepting you, Jonathan, is accepting _you_, she thought to him_.

_I don't think I understand, he thought back, bemused._

_It's all right. I think we have a lifetime to explore that concept._

"Sovok gives his blessing," she said at his confusion.

V'Lin and Saaya in turn sipped their tea and nodded, as if they knew that would be the case all along.

"What changed his mind?" Archer asked.

T'Pol shook her head. "I think we did."

_Just like that? Archer asked._

"I think perhaps it had been there before. At any rate, when Vulcans have decided on a matter and the logic of it, there is nothing left to discuss."

"Aren't there arrangements to make?" he asked.

_My love, that is left to our discretion. _

"Aren't they invited?" he asked.

V'Lin's eyes shone with humor. "Jonathan, you are already her bond mate. A ceremony at this point is just a formality."

With his mouth ajar, he stammered. "But, this whole exercise--"

"Was for our family to accept you, which we do."

_Seems anti-climatic, he thought to T'Pol._

She looked at him with a small amount of humor in her eyes.

_You know, we should have a small ceremony and ask your relatives to be there, he thought._

He eyes twinkled at him and she let the words ruminate through her mind that the two brought balance. Stooping over to talk with her relatives, she discussed indeed a wedding ceremony – which they seemed in favor of – and began planning it to take place soon, if possible the next day. Jonathan mostly nodded at whatever T'Pol wanted and a decision was made to have something the next day at noon in Sovok's garden with a priest that had been long-time friends of the family. Sovok interrupted to suggest that a robe he'd had – a regal one – would probably fit the human and V'Lin announced with pride she would be pleased if T'Pol wore her bridal gown.

The family spent time into the evening, munching on fruits and vegetables as they conversed. And T'Pol noted, almost with a hint of smile, that for the first time since their arrival on Vulcan, Archer felt completely at home.

-------

That night, when they finally made back to her mother's house, the two began almost immediately to get ready for bed. After their experiences, they were exhausted and relished crawling into bed. The moment Archer scooted under the covers and turned off the light next to his head, T'Pol's hand touched his cheek. Nuzzling noses and eventually planting their foreheads against the other's, they decided to whisper and give into small kisses and pecks.

Softly, T'Pol confided in him. "My mother told me the story of Rama."

Gingerly, his fingers twirled a piece of her hair.

She said, "I always wanted Surak to return her feelings."

A strange smile spread across his lips. "Perhaps he did. You indicated he didn't let her die in the desert."

She didn't disagree, so he stroked her hair again. He said, "That's very romantic of you, T'Pol."

He kissed her temple and she spoke. "I could feel you also wanted Rama and Surak to be together."

Grinning, he agreed. "I think you also told me the story because it reminds you of us."

"I said Rama reminded me of you, yes. Rama and Surak were close friends, two people fated to be together in many ways."

Their noses nudged each other's.

"Maybe we should get some sleep for the wedding tomorrow," he said.

"Jonathan, I've always wanted to do something for a while."

He gave her a querying eyebrow and quickly she felt herself leaning over him. Raising the bottom of his t-shirt up past his shoulders, she began whispered to him.

"You want to feel desired?" she asked.

As she placed her lips against the palm of his hand, he gasped. "Yes."

She stalked over his abdomen and kissed up his stomach. "Do you want to feel cared for? Loved? Adored?"

His body squirmed under her, and she felt her pulse quicken at the thought. Although the fires of Pon Farr had cooled, she loved this man; he made her burn as he always would.

The tip of her nose brushed along the sternum of his chest and she kissed the path of hair.

"I've always thought you were sexy," she said.

She was beginning to feel a little drunk on his emotions; lust was eking out of his every pore. Continuing, she explored his body with her mouth, "I've always thought you were intelligent. Sophisticated. I've always admired you." Teasing his lips with her tongue, she cajoled a hiss from him.

Her teeth gently bit at his throat and she whispered, "I want you."

"T'Pol--"

Silencing him, her mouth left a string of kisses down his torso. Her breath tickled his chest and her lips nipped at the brownish-pink flesh that peaked there while his hips bucked.

"I adore you," she said.

Her two fingers stroked his, winding around them and snaking along his arm.

It was sensory overload. With every movement she initiated, he became more excited. In turn, she felt herself begin to ache with need as if the taunting she did to his body stimulated her own.

Her lips begged him, enticing him to capitulate - unstoppable. Moving quicker and with more force, she continued to fondle his lips, throat and chest with her mouth, tongue and teeth. His breath was ragged and his moaning was deep and low. Her knee gently pushed him legs apart, dominantly and carefully.

Removing her fingers from their Vulcan embrace, she ran them up and down his arm, along his furry chest and stomach and toward his knee. She looked at him as he wiggled at the sensation of her touch while his breathing became raspier and more wanton.

"I'm in love with you," she admitted. Her hand grazed his inner thigh and his eyes darkened. Doggedly, she captured his lips and pushed her tongue into his mouth with a soft moan.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. She could tell the movements reminded him of their first encounter.

Slowly let her hand wander along his skin. "Because you excite me."

Nabbing his lips again, she entered his mind and showed him everything.

_The desert was tranquil and still, but barren and alone. His presence in her most private of places felt comforting. Kissing him, she glided her fingers along the hair of his chest as his hands explored the thin gown she wore. The moment their tongues came into contact a light mist fell and within an instant she noticed desert blooms – dark red flowers scattered along the sandy ground. Pushing her down and the silk from her body, his tongue weaved a trail to her stomach as her neck craned back in ecstasy. With more emotion than she'd ever shown him out of the blood fever, she cooed at his movements. And with more Vulcan dominance than he'd shown, he held her hips down as his tongue explored her skin despite her protestations. The mist had turned to the lightest rain, which refreshed her and sparked more desert blooms to bud to life. _

"_Yes," she whispered._

_Sniffing at the air, she could smell the salt from his body and relished it. She could hear the rumbling of his heart as if it was thunder on the horizon. _

_She could feel that he enjoyed the loamy feeling between his toes as his body hovered over hers. His face bore a smile, as radiant as the sun itself and his lightly tanned skin shone under a cloudless blue sky, despite it being near dusk. As he shifted his weight and prepared for their union, she halted his movements and pushed him tenderly beneath her. Kneeling over him, she corrected his thinking._

"_I want to worship you, my husband."_

Their meld reflected both mental and physical world as one as the two united.

-----

**Epilogue**

T'Pol and Archer got married in a small ceremony in front of a firepot that guarded a large gong in Sovok's courtyard. This ritual filled with archaic Vulcan was just a formality for the rites they'd shared in private last night … when they'd shared more than just their bodies -- their minds joined for all eternity.

T'Pol, dressed in a long red robe that V'Lin wore stood before the priest, her face stoic and yet her eyes glistened. Archer stood beside her, covered in the long sandy-colored robe of Sovok and tried to remain calm, though he shot her a smile from time-to-time. Saaya and Sovok touched fingers and V'Lin by the two thought that T'Pol's mother, had she lived, would've been proud and … happy.

When the priest finished, he looked at the two and then nodded to Archer. Instead of leaning to give his wife a kiss, he reached up his fingers – as he understood was the custom – and touched his forefinger and middle with hers as the two listened to Sovok ring the gong to conclude the ceremony.

Vulcans didn't take honeymoons, but T'Pol and Archer arranged to do something that was extended to her as a courtesy a week before, something that was long overdue: a visit to V'Lar's tomb in the Great Hall.

The custom was to leave a memory and take one, sharing bits of yourself with a ghost; the Hall guardian would perform the ritual with a select group, only those invited. T'Pol counted herself fortunate to be chosen, especially since it seemed no one else was hovering around. In some respects V'Lar's family's disdain for her was a blessing; it afforded her silence and more time alone with her old mentor.

Staring at the stone doors in front of her, she pushed with all her might as one groaned open, allowing her entrance. As she stepped into the mausoleum, torches flickered in the blackened room, lighting the way. The atmosphere was deathly silent, except for the low chanting of the guardian, and the air smelled stale – like hundreds of bodies were buried in the crypts and caves of this place.

"T'Pol of Shi'Kahr," whispered the guardian. He was a gnarled figure – old, even by Vulcan standards, with a head full of white hair. A coldness permeated his eyes, a stiffer logic than she had ever witnessed.

Nervously, her foot stepped forward and she nodded into the shadows.

This, the most sacred of rites, was always bound in mystery. During the Kolinahr, young Vulcans learned of the katra and the Great Hall, but precious little time was spent preparing them if they were ever called. All they knew is that it was a great privilege, an honor even … a clandestine one.

The guardian bowed long and low, and then pointed a crooked finger. "Take off your cloak. These things I tell you, are for you alone."

"I bring my mate. He was a friend to V'Lar," she said. Archer tiptoed behind her, intent on the old man's words.

"His name is Archer, and if you have touched V'Lar's mind, you know she would welcome him."

The old Vulcan nodded slowly. "He may attend."

Whispering the secrets of the ancients with a voice that waved with age, his words flowed monotonously as if it were weighed by mathematical equations and theorems.

"The mind is the keeper of logic. The katra is the keeper of our spirit. The flesh is the vessel that sustains us. It is these ingredients that make us Vulcan. Without the mind, to make us rationed or reasoned – we would be barbarians, heathens. Without the katra, we would not be curious for knowledge. Without the flesh, we would not be able to enact reason or seek knowledge. Even in death, when the flesh dies, the katra can remain and depart wisdom to us. It is this wisdom and knowledge that we seek. It is this knowledge and wisdom that is here, in the Great Hall, for the ages."

She felt Archer near her stagger as she herself felt dizzy.

"Touch V'Lar's thoughts," the priest instructed.

Walking with frozen feet toward V'Lar's preserved – almost mummified - corpse, T'Pol pressed her fingertips against the temple of her childhood hero. The memory she departed was special and meaningful to her: meeting her at the conference as a young woman.

_In a room filled with the most intelligent Vulcan scientists, philosophers, diplomats and leaders, T'Pol – a young woman - timidly asked a question. As the other Vulcans in their room barely masked their disdain, the ambassador threw a mild eyebrow at her and allowed her eyes to twinkle. Asking her name, V'Lar answered the question in detail and then suggested they talk more after the seminar. When they did, V'Lar commented that T'Pol would make a fine ambassador one day. T'Pol, mesmerized by the woman, made a vow in her heart to follow the woman's footsteps. It's how why she volunteered for the Ministry of Defense, the Vulcan High Command and eventually accepted a position aboard Enterprise. V'Lar was her hero._

Waiting, she paused as the priest strode toward her.

"Are you ready to receive V'Lar's memory for you to remember?"

"Yes," T'Pol said closing her eyes and clasping Jonathan's hand.

_She saw V'Lar at the portal of Enterprise. Archer held her bags and T'Pol had opened the door. From the ambassador's point of view, she watched a generation of Vulcans changing; the humans were not as barbaric as the Vulcan High Command had led her to believe. The man named Archer, T'Pol's friend, was someone who commanded respect and a certain amount of admiration. He'd risked his ship and everyone's lives on his science officer's words and trusting in her judgment. Nothing about risking his ship followed logic, at least not the kind that V'Lar was used to; the man relied on his emotions in a way she hadn't entirely expected. The rationale was based on friendship. _

_Yes, she sensed a connection between them – a spark that would bring the two races closer to each other … possibly closer than either would expect. _

"_I sense a great bond between you," she said. _

_With amusement, she watched the two shoot each other a timid (yet curious) glance. She was an old woman and had lived for many years; the signs of loyalty, friendship and interest – no matter the species – never really escaped her notice. With that, she'd opened a figurative door that had firmly remained closed and accepted her bag from the captain while wishing T'Pol well._

_When the door behind her closed, she wondered what would happen to the two of them and whether their instincts – human and Vulcan – would interfere with a friendship or something deeper. V'Lar took her seat in the ship and ruminated about unexpected couples. Surak and Rama came to mind, a story she enjoyed hearing in her childhood; no Vulcan with dignity to acknowledge that was a beautiful and angst-ridden story. At least, none that she would know._

T'Pol closed her eyes and the priest nodded. "That is all."

_That is certainly enough, T'Pol thought._

Sharing the memories with Jonathan, connecting their foreheads for just a moment, he purred a laugh and she nuzzled into him.

"Do you want to stay and think about things?" he asked. "I know you've been bombarded by my emotions."

She shook her head. "I will be for the rest of my life."

The two left the old building, hand-in-hand, and stood under the night sky.

"You miss Porthos," she said.

Rubbing the back of his knuckles against her cheek, he disagreed. "My life, right now, feels perfect, but it would be nice to see him again."

Looking into his eyes, she could feel the warmth spread through his blood and heat his skin. "Yes."

They hadn't arranged any time alone, combining their quarters, but he thought about it. And for some reason the fact that he'd considered made her content. Reaching into his pocket, for what she thought might be his communicator, he pulled out a ring.

"You know, humans have their own rituals about weddings," he said. Getting down on one knee – knowing the time would never be right – he asked for her hand.

"We are already man and wife."

He laughed. "This makes it official."

Opening the box, she found an emblem that resembled the IDIC on the ring.

"Perfect," she marveled.

"Sorry the circumstances aren't more romantic."

She shook her head. "I find them very romantic."

"Then you say 'yes'?"

As if he'd uttered the absurd, she gazed at him with confusion. "Of course."

Under the starry sky, they kissed. When they parted, she agreed – which seemed would happen anyway and he reached for his communicator. They'd have a lot of explaining to do when they reached Enterprise, but now wasn't the time. Indicating they were on their way to leave, the two stepped into the shuttle, the one they'd parked at the mouth of the Great Hall.

"Would you like to --?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not really your captain again yet. Whatever you want."

Sliding behind the pilot's station, she watched him climb in at the passenger's seat.

"I'm sorry for everything you've been through," she said.

Already breathing a little easier under the Earth-controlled gravity, he dismissed her comment. "Why? The end result was what we wanted."

"You wanted to initially see Vulcan."

"And I did, through your eyes."

"It seems both of us has shown each other our world."

"We sure have," he said.

"Do you know what else is fairly certain?" she asked.

He gave a tiny smile. "What?"

"The Pon Farr was successful."

"Successful?" he asked.

Turning her attention to the control panel in front of her, she gave the faintest of grins. Waiting for him to speak, she blinked at him and let her eyes smile.

"Successful." She looked toward her own stomach.

As his jaw dropped, unable to speak, she alerted Enterprise of their location as she maneuvered the vessel to fit in the bay doors. The ship climbed into the docking bay and T'Pol leaned in.

She said, "Two things are certain: we should move into one cabin right away, and it will need to be larger than we initially estimated."

The end.

--------

A/N: Thanks everyone. Again, sorry about the long wait. I hope the end was fairly satisfactory. I sure had a lot of trouble wrapping it up.


End file.
